


Star Trek: The Odyssey

by anon-j-anon (Anon)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), The Odyssey - Homer
Genre: Cannibalism, Gen, Grief, Incest, M/M, Mentions of the following:, Poetry, Rape, Slavery, Suicide, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2017-12-20 03:57:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 48
Words: 30,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/882669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anon/pseuds/anon-j-anon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Tell me, Muse, of the ship of many ways, which was driven to far journeys."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. dedication

Dedication

 

_ for mazaher, lina, and frangar _  
_ for black jack, clash, gabby, and taz _  
_ for elsa, flo, beijing and fuji _  
_ for baikal, stolby, ruby, jazz _  
_ for showing me things I'd forgotten _  
_ or never had, or never knew _  
_ for showing me the way to speaking _  
_ languages to live anew _

 

and thanks to my beta, secret chord, who took on the challenge  
looked over the work, added line breaks, made it a better piece

 

 

\--

 

 

A few notes

 

Everything is written in verse.  There are monologues.  The rhyme scheme can be inconsistent.

I write for myself.  Though I hope some parts will give pleasure to the reader, this is not the reason I write.

There is lots of grief.

I consider K/S to be the heart of what I write.  That being said, this work does not deal primarily with their relationship-- K/S centers it, but is not the main subject of it.  If you are looking for a pure K/S fic, this will probably disappoint.

 

 

\--

 

 

Logistics

 

Warnings as well as additional notes concerning source material/inspiration are located in the notes at the end of each section.  As this fic mentions/deals with subjects such as rape, suicide, slavery, incest, cannibalism, and torture, please read the warnings if you believe you may be triggered by the material.

Adaptation of _The Odyssey_ is based on the English translation by Richmond Lattimore. Spellings of names and some lines (cited without quotation marks) have been used as well.

Klingon words were mostly culled from the internet, primarily kli.org, klingon.wikia.com, movies-dictionary.org/English-to-Klingon-Dictionary, and memory-alpha.org.  Klingon names were completely made up.  Any mistakes in tlhIngan Hol are mine-- I did not learn the language.

Story takes place after _Star Trek Into Darkness_.  I like Christine Chapel so I put her back on the ship, author's prerogative.

 

 

j. Anon  



	2. i. muse

\--  
  


 

Oh! Let me tell you an old story  
of exploration, ships and glory  
of quiet peace and restoration  
of quiet love, true hearts and patience  
A story without moral telling  
without fear or death a'knelling  
A story to believe in life  
and hope against the eternal strife  
of systems in our galaxy  
Where aggression under alchemy  
through time, words, small aggravations  
transforms old enemies to persuasion  
Alliance opened to dialogue  
Silence banished into the fogs  
of time preceding.

Let me sing to you this legend  
the fabled, famous warp core engines  
of the United Star Ship _Enterprise_  
Transformer Room, please energize  
Beam up the Captain James T. Kirk  
First Officer Spock of Vulcan and Earth  
Leonard McCoy and Nyota Uhura  
Pavel Andreyevich, Hikaru Sulu  
Montgomery Scott, Keenser, Chris Chapel  
Carol Marcus and bridge crew, stations ready to rattle  
Lt. Madeleine, Lt. Darwin, Mr. 0718  
Lt. Hannity, Ensign Brackett, Engineer Deepak Singhate,  
Dr. M’Benga, Lt. al'Hassan, Ensign Shuuji Nakamura  
Nurse Mandela, Dr. Xu, Yeoman Driss Butumbura  
Engineering, science, command and helm  
Security, operations, medical personnel  
One thousand crew members searching space's deep reaches  
One thousand true lives seeking worlds and new creatures  
Each species they meet, they meet to express  
Wonder, amazement, compassion, respect  
Each conflict they find, they work to keep death  
outside the solution, bordered and checked

This is the Enterprise and her crew  
Her five year journey, heading to  
strange new worlds and civilizations  
strange new planets and unknown locations  
the border of the galaxy  
with hand held out in amnesty  
to keep the peace and bridge all shortage  
to live life with conviction and with courage  
Oh! Let me tell you of their journey  
Sit down, drink deep, and fear no Fermi  
twists of plot and situation  
danger, darkness, quick evasion  
This story has a joyful ending  
For life is short, and grief is rending  
The Captain, Spock, and _Enterprise_  
loved of all else, to laugh and rise.

 

 

\--


	3. ii. cows

\--

 

The first mission we encounter  
is a bit silly, I must admit  
The _Enterprise_ finds a planet of cattle  
who graze, sleep, chew cud, and spit  
The herds protect the young in circles  
they vote on pasture simply standing  
the direction that they want to go  
and head that way, no bull commanding  
The science officers all take samples  
of hair, blood, horn, grass, dirt, and shit  
the cows are curious and low softly  
Uhura smiles and records it  
Their predators they do not see  
but tracks and screaming in the night  
when morning comes the herd moves southward  
three carcasses found bloody bright  
Spock takes the bones and builds a fire  
in ancient Vulcan sacrifice  
remembering a time forgotten  
when bulls were gods, and gods had price.

 

\--


	4. iii. lotus

\--

 

The second mission they embarked  
found lotus flowers and people sleeping  
the Berthold rays showered on the planet  
caused massive growth in plants and treelings  
It was believed that all had died  
for Berthold rays are deadly dealings  
but beaming down to survey the planet  
they found plants, people, mellow feelings  
with such a welcome warm as sunlight  
the crew shed off their sterile suits  
they breathed the air sweet with blue flowers  
forgot their ship, captain, and their route  
The CMO, always so wary,  
with tricorder, mask, and mind acute  
took readings of the lotus eaters  
and found medical mystery a-fruit  
Like Khan, these people had no blemish  
no malady, no scars, no ills  
Amputations, hurts, and surgeries  
vanished without a godlike doctor's skill

Meanwhile Spock, Keenser, 0718,  
and Madeleine's conditions grew chill  
they abandoned their duties, ran wild in the flowers  
spoke to the treelings and drank deep of the thrill  
Spock felt a freedom and a wonder  
without the taint of grief and guilt  
He longed to stay in this world always  
so not to face the past blood spilt  
Keenser clicked, blinked and broke his silence  
stole Scotty's Scotch and tartan kilt  
0718 lost all direction  
his compass head a-lilt and a-tilt  
Madeleine swam in the waters  
her skin alight with bronze highlights  
she touched the trees and thought a minute  
of the fire that had burned her hive

The others of the _Enterprise_  
lay down and dreamed with blown out sight  
lost in the ease of lifeless flight  
to a perfect, beautiful world.  
The captain, tired and still hurting  
from Vulcan, Khan, Pike's death and Spock  
succumbed to bliss without a quarrel  
resigned to leave his ship in dock

The doctor, masked and now despairing  
the last to balk at paradise  
injected himself with the blue pollen  
to fight and walk and loose the vise  
He felt the high, the ease, the blessing  
the need to sleep, let this suffice  
then rage and anger roared to meet them  
"This is not life, but sacrifice.  
I know we all have sorrow buried  
I know we all long for a day  
when we have ease and restoration  
but this drugged sleep is not the way  
To find our lives and true beginnings  
we must have faith that come what may  
life will restore and bring us respite  
life will give meaning, love, allay."

With this resolved, he then descended  
to find Jim, Spock, Uhura, Scotty  
He tried to rouse his friend to anger  
but Jim was lost in thundering party  
reliving empty, thoughtless existence  
of darkness, bass, sex and heartbeat  
Bones found Spock and knowing the Vulcan  
pushed all his hurts to bring out rage  
accusing him of desecrating the memory  
of all the true Vulcans lying dead before age  
He attacked Spock's honor, integrity, courage  
called him a coward and spat on the grave  
of his mother, his house, and all his lost people  
And Spock, in his grief, was forced to engage

Together, on board, they found a cure hypo  
which would not compel others to face  
the horror of Nero screaming inside them  
and live life for death, for vengeance, for hate,  
the horror of Khan resigned to grim warfare  
and crush with bare hands the enemy's face

When Jim woke he felt Spock's hand gently touching  
his fingers where once they were separate  
by the locked door and window, by death and by dying  
by longing to speak, to communicate  
words stuck in throat stuck in heart stretching fingers  
that life must be more than death and escape  
that life must be more than dread sorrow and danger  
that life must _be_ , let life be our fate.

 

\--  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This Side of Paradise](http://www.startrek.com/watch_episode/HA0gB9aDK5fI)


	5. iv. cyclopes

\--

 

The third mission following was assigned  
by Starfleet, without clear purpose or intent  
They were ordered to become emissaries  
to seek out Qyklops of tlhIngan kind  
He was said to reside on the planet plH'moS  
where the spirits of the warriors are buried.

It was a long flight, underlined with doubt  
the crew had stopped believing the Admiralty's command  
The Captain called on Lt. Uhura to guide him  
She remembered too well the eyes of the patrol scout  
If Qyklops was anything like the Qo'NoSian  
they must be prepared, their prospects were grim.  
Yet she remembered with equal clarity  
their willingness to disembark, walk forward, unmask  
listen to her words and measure them for worth  
Before they departed, she bought gifts of surpassing rarity  
Talosian pendants, Vulcan wine, Tellarite ointment  
that these may aid in allowing them safe berth.

They arrived to observe the strange fertility of plH'moS  
wide fields, soft rains, oceans with chalcedony coral  
tangqa' grazing, lung sleeping, qagh slipping over rock  
Nothing farmed, no factories, no tlhIngan, no deimos  
it was hard to believe such a place could exist  
among the Qo'NoSian people, whose planet was shocked.

The Captain refused to meet Qyklops without searching  
for traps, surveillance, weapons, ships, war operations  
despite Spock's protests they were breaking good faith  
After the scouts reported back, all confirming  
the land was clean, but the peoples were lawless  
Kirk listened, nodded, gave their reports great weight.  
His decisions on dealing with Qyklops' kind  
were perhaps too formed, without room for perspectives  
Lt. Uhura hailed Qyklops on the Captain's orders  
saying words meaning peace, supplication, but defined  
by their sudden appearance looming over the planet  
a Constitution class vessel with officers and soldiers.

Qyklops was a tlhIngan who'd lost comrades by fire  
fighting mad Nero's quest to reduce all to madness  
fighting mad tlhIngan's quest to rebuild a great army  
He took the post on plH'moS to live by the pyres  
of old friends, old fields, old tangqa', old seas  
He knew nothing of Kirk, but fear stirred old memory  
He gathered his rusted sword from its rotting sheath  
He polished it quietly while qagh coiled and slithered  
He watched as it slowly emerged to new skin  
For tlhIngan the fight is to honor and breathe  
new life in the body, blood roaring, heart spinning  
He would honor this land, his comrades with a death to win.  
And if not win, then keep from destruction  
his beloved fires, the tangqa's slow walking  
This he resolved when he answered their message  
with words meaning peace, welcome, formal introduction  
His eyes taking in the eyes of the Captain  
whose eyes took in what each believed was the essence  
of war.

Kirk beamed down with Spock, Uhura, and Bones  
each gave salute to Qyklops in high form, presented their gifts  
with necks bare and exposed. The Captain repeated his words  
"Of a peace between tlhIngans and Federation, may our witness be stones  
whose silence will carry the promise to marrow."  
"But stones may be broken when selath set on herds  
scattering their numbers like ships burnt to rubble."  
Thus Qyklops prepared quickly to kill Kirk's companions, trap Captain and ship  
in helpless surrender. He would have then summoned  
his ruthless plH'moSians to slaughter their numbers and begin the long struggle.  
But Kirk would have devised a sly plan to bewitch savage Qyklops  
with wine and then blind the great tlhIngan a sudden  
escape to the Enterprise, fly Federation, war mad and sure of a terrible fate.  
All this would have passed, if they both had not tasted  
the bitterness of death, war, hubris, retreat. Qyklops, defying fate and his instincts  
looked Kirk in the eye with unflinching stare. There was no hate.

"You come to this planet with gifts of great value  
yet send scouts to survey our land for a prize. You come with a Vulcan, a species extinct  
to remind me of my loss yet despise this hallowed land of my dead  
and my dearest, whose spirits walk in these sacred skies. If your truth is peace  
then why approach thusly, stinking of dishonor, deceit, and lies?"

"We are Achaians, coming from Troy," Lt. Uhura stepped forward and said  
"We are beaten off our true course by our own Federation, whose words we hold cheaply.  
Dishonor, deceit, are not our intention. Fear drove us to set out and spy  
your land, your peoples in contravention of possible death, prepare for the worst.  
We see now we could have risked an open trust in hospitality  
yet you cannot blame us of our fear, for you share it, know it, live it too.  
So we have come. So it has pleased Qun to arrange it. He thirsts  
for peace and quiet waters. Will you turn away suppliants at your knees?"

And thus the seeds of words were planted, nourished with a gentle dew  
that bloomed to friendship between Federation  
and tlhIngan kind. So life begins anew.

 

\--  



	6. v. wind

\--

 

Lt. Sulu, light and merry  
went out to fly the ship one day  
he felt the wind race close beside him  
he heard it whisper, “Follow this way.”  
The North, the South, the East and Western  
the Up, the Down, the Skew, the Crane  
winds to him alone they whispered  
to seek immortal Aiolos’ reign.  
And so possessed, Sulu took over  
the _Enterprise_ without a thought  
He flew them all to wind swept planet  
where dust storms howled against the rock.  
Aiolos fascinated by cer new power  
to call through distances in space  
entertained with feasts and showered  
gifts uncountably rich in grace.  
The captain, annoyed to have his pilot  
used and forced against his will  
asked Aiolos to release Sulu  
lost within the wind’s words still.  
Aiolos said “He’s not unwilling--  
my power does not work that way.  
My song is only heard by those who  
listen and love its disarray  
of air in movement, ever rushing  
howling, moaning, whistling, grey  
My song of wind was only meant to  
give him shelter from breaking clay.  
For he remembers--  
bodies falling into fire  
cords of life snapping away  
jumping to a drilling platform  
parachute failing to splay  
failing engines, failing systems  
falling into atmosphere  
Commander’s face and deathly orders  
he couldn’t leave so vowed to steer  
the Silver Lady, beloved starship  
out of the sea, above the clouds  
his friends, his comrades, his family  
away from Federation shrouds  
The wind immortal, without substance  
cannot be broken, bowed or bent  
the wind made from the engine’s thrusters  
he thought that moment heaven sent  
only to find that to his horror  
it cost the life of his captain.  
I apologize to all for bringing  
you against your desire and will  
In the future, I will take caution  
to sing my song with better skill  
For your pilot, for his story,  
for his love of wind’s strange song  
I will give a gift unrivaled:  
five bags of wind to take along  
In one, East-Western winds for sailing  
upon, through land and sea on ship  
In two, North-Southern winds for flying  
above your Earth and down to it  
In three, Up-Downward winds for dreaming  
of peaceful lands and better times  
In four, the Skew Wind for containing  
crisis with a calm of mind  
The last, Crane Wind is for his spirit  
that his love may never die  
though life may fade, love is the extra  
gift which keeps him through the tide.”

 

\--  



	7. vi. giants

\--

 

They arrived upon the planets Lamos, Telepylos of Laistrygones  
They were enthralled to see that almost all the people were gigantes.  
Rapture quickly turned to horror when they learned of giant society  
Captain Kirk, once reckless explorer, remained on board to oversee.  
Carol, newest of their number, and Pavel, youngest of their set,  
Bones and Spock, Lt. Darwin, went down to settle Starfleet debt.

Among the secret files of Marcus, Uhura found his youth’s infractions  
his breaking of the Prime Directive, though well-intentioned, sparked chain reaction  
The giants became cannibals without rite or reason, rule of law  
the mighty formed a pact among them, branded the weak and slaughtered all.  
Starfleet ordered ‘Fix the problem, establish order, clean the mess,’  
Jim cautioned only to make contact, see if they listen or aggress.  
The other teams sent down to surface were told to search and document  
the suffering of the weak encattled, look for signs of defiance.  
The pictures sent to ship above, of hanging carcass hooked through bone  
of decapitated heads and gloves made of hides with hairs in sewn  
filled every member of the crew with terror, horror, steel resolve  
to bring to right this crime of error and uphold space flight’s first law.

Spock, Bones, Carol, Pavel, and Darwin entered the city through the gate  
ignoring stares and looks of hunger, they marched straight to the palatial plate.  
Antiphates, the gigante king, summoned them to royal assembly  
Before any could speak a word to reason, his eye roved over them contemptibly.

“You have returned after making a vow to never set foot in this damned place  
You have returned with the fair daughter of the very man whose ideas about race  
have destroyed our species, desecrated our temples, overturned our traditions,  
made civil war to erase the bodies, minds, and rights of the living  
Titans who now we eat in disgrace. There were those in our number  
longing for power, for the glories and weapons of outer space  
They found their answer in blood and devoured their brothers, sisters and mothers, defaced.  
I will not listen to words you may offer. I have eaten my father, my friends and my fate.  
I will eat you and perhaps in that hour understand why you have come to be great.  
I will start with the daughter, so fair and so small--  
Why did your father spare you from the fall!”

Spock, Chekhov and Darwin drew phasers and fired, Bones reached for Carol  
who, through shocked grief, desired to set aright the wrongs that imperiled  
this war-torn race of cannibals feral. But they had no time. The away team fled  
while giants tore up the streets throwing flames, skulls, and heads  
excited, enraged, entrenched in their evil. Jim beamed up his crew and asked for a plan.  
Spock could find no good answer, Bones suggested a ban  
of all Federation vessels and leave them to right it  
sometimes only time can heal sickness so blighted.  
Lt. Darwin and Chekhov were both overwhelmed by the stench of the blood,  
the flesh rot in that realm. But Carol, determined, said “Come hell or flood water  
we will find a solution for I am the daughter of a man, who in death  
could not see the good, disillusioned in life though he’d tried as he could.  
My father once believed not in war, but protection, in keeping the peace  
through precise advanced weapons, which killed only those who would do unto others  
the same that these Titans do unto themselves. I studied the power of weapons  
with faith that only enemies were killed and innocents were held  
alive and unharmed. I did not know who is enemy, or innocent, we cannot foretell.  
I did not know weapons could not hold all answers until the Red Matter blew Vulcan away.  
That day of destruction changed my father and it changed me, like darkness and day.”

The Captain listened, poised and quiet. His eyes glowed blue, reflecting the riot  
of emotions held in reserve. Bones grunted, said softly “They could just change their diet.”  
Spock thought once again of the scene he had witnessed, of the King Antiphates,  
of his anger sadistic. Darwin thought back to old myths of gods on Euphrates;  
she remembered the Greeks, Zeus and Chronos, and Hades. Chekhov said:  
“Sometimes, Keptan, nothing can be done.  
Sometimes you cannot fix a people, so set upon zeir current ways  
Sometimes the only right to ewil is preserf the good for one more day.  
We cannot save the titan giants from themselfs or force a change  
We can only help the small defiants escape to life without the slain.”  
And so it was done.

 

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of cannibalism.


	8. vii. aiaia

\--

 

The fifth mission I will sing in blank verse  
to honor all the witches of our seas  
for ten is five by two with stress reversed  
so too we seek dynamic harmony  
in song and solemn death, in life, in course  
that grief may find relief in time passing  
that time may give small blessing and diverse  
friends, companions, love, t'hy'la-- sing.

The Captain and his crew embarked upon  
a mission to explore a planet's crest  
scanners aboard showed indications of  
new forms of life within volcanic vents  
The ridge of fire encircling the planet  
gave blackest soil for mold-like grass to grow  
and trees like giant mushrooms rose above;  
small dusty spores like snowy flies enclothed  
the air, diffracting light to opal snow  
Insects ate spores, birds ate insects and mold  
while nentaufors grazed without enemy  
The spores, mold, fungus trees were toxic to  
most Terran, Vulcan, tlhIngan biology  
But Madeleine had strange immun'ty to  
the opalescent air, so joined the team  
of Captain, Sulu, Keenser, Ensign Yok  
They wandered in the chitin-walled forest  
when suddenly they spied beyond a rock  
a shimm'ring, gleaming dome-- someone within

Jim cursed, then ducked and motioned them to crouch  
while he went to investigate the shield  
For shield it was, a tlhIngan prototype  
long discontinued for its energy  
drained ship, and did not let the warbirds fire  
useless except in dire emergency  
Jim looked within and saw a house, a yard  
a gate, a fence, a field gone wild to seed  
He looked again and thought he could discern  
a tlhIngan woman, warriguls at her feet  
a herd of tangqa', sargh, and lazing vlghro',  
Da'nal, borghel, cha'bIp, cha'par, cha'qu'  
all flittering and fluttering to feast  
singing their songs so sweet to tlhIngan ears  
The woman had not noticed his presence  
the warriguls caught not his scent through shield  
he slipped away, in his mind resolving  
to leave alone the tlhIngan haven sealed.

Spock from above continued their research  
science officers a-humming at the helm  
delight lighting their faces for they found  
a clue to proteome evolution  
But things can never go as planned with Jim  
the universe seemed bent to throw his way  
obstacles and twists, Herculean labors  
to mold a bitter greatness from his clay  
Sulu grabbed Keenser, dove under the mold  
the others hid, bewildered but soon they  
heard tlhIngan grunts, war cry, shouted curses  
"You are a witch! You'll burn, you'll die, you'll pay!  
You cast my soldiers into squealing targh!  
You turned my wife into vem'eq and stay  
behind your veqlargh shield-- Qun smash your house  
and when you die, may vermin eat your skin!"

He fired on the shield but the shots bounced  
directly back, he used his sword to break  
the barrier but it stood firm and froze  
the glitt'ring sword to ashen rust and slate  
He used his fists to pound against the walls  
he screamed his wrath, spores swirling round his head  
he tore his suit, his mask, his hands and clawed  
the shimm'ring surface that mercilessly stayed  
impassive, silent, closed to his demands  
each breath he took brought spores into his lungs  
to bloom to mold and grass within the blood  
Each mucus surface, eyes, lips, nose and tongue  
grew fungus sliming green, blue, yellow, pink  
And when it seemed all life had left his eyes  
and blackest mold covered him like a beard  
the witch opened her door and took his sword,  
cut off his arm and dragged his body in  
She turned to face the ten tlhIngan soldiers  
"If you have face, come witness what I'll do  
if you are loyal, follow your dear general  
into my house, else take your honor to  
Qo'NoS, the cursed darkened planet of home--  
At least my targh are free to choose to roam."

Then Cirqce turned, the soldiers followed snared  
She wove a spell into her very words  
for they were tired, homesick, heartsick, helpless  
of vendetta their general led them to  
and as each passed the barrier of the shield  
each turned into a tlhIngan creature gold  
Jim understood all those under the seal  
once were tlhIngan in body, mind, and soul  
But why should he take pains to interfere  
in tlhIngan troubles, why should he upset  
the conflict balanced twixt witch and warrior?  
Why should he risk his own and his crew's neck  
They might leave now, for witch so powerful  
is bound to know of their presence and yet  
she let them be, did not compel them to  
follow into her veqlargh fields of sargh.

Jim looked into the eyes of all his crew  
knowing that each wondered what he'd do next  
The ensign was afraid, Sulu was grim  
He'd follow his captain to any death  
even a death forgetting his human  
ambitions, dreams, for one standing four-legged  
Madeleine, taking Keenser's hand, they stood  
rough skin to skin and nodded their assent  
Jim set Sulu and Madeleine to stand guard  
while Keenser took his readings of the shield  
then Jim, ensign, and Keenser beamed back up  
to analyze the data from the field.

They told to Spock and Scotty all they saw  
Spock saw the wall of will behind Jim's eyes  
Jim could not leave his enemies to live  
lives unchosen, for life is not a prize  
of games of war, or vengeance, or dislike  
While Scotty, Keenser, Bones marveled at the  
device allowing Cirqce to transform  
tough tlhIngan flesh to wing, scale, hoof, and horn  
Spock spoke to Jim of how to best approach  
this tlhIngan woman wild as wind and thorn  
"You're certain that the herds and birds were free?  
They were not illusions? They flew, they grazed?"  
"They all looked happy, healthy, content to  
continue all their days in her domain.  
At first I thought her house was a place of  
shelter for all the people who lived there  
The warriguls had joy in their dark eyes  
tails wagging as they followed her around  
The vlghro' weren't afraid of them; instead  
they strolled with ease and napped in the cool shade  
The sargh and tangqa' stayed in different fields  
The targh took baths in dirt and dug for roots  
I can't believe that all of them were once  
tlhIngan soldiers, turned just for trying to  
find their comrades. I would have done the same."  
"Captain! We've found the little bugger that  
will change the tlhIngan folk to beast. You see  
the readings show a spike of dhuoNoR rays  
which used to be the way their transporters,  
until they improved their technology,  
operated, and she's fine-tuned it most  
ingeniously-- it rearranges their  
skeleton, the whole entire anatomy  
according to the types she's programmed but  
there's just one thing." "Jim, there's no telling if  
it can preserve personality of  
the tlhIngans it chews up and spits out to  
cows and pigs. We might be looking at a  
bunch of rewritten tlhInganian sheep."

"Doctor, I am inclined to disagree"  
("Of course you are" Bones sighed'n amusement)  
"The captain stated all the people on  
her grounds showed normal signs and wide range of  
behavior. I believe the witch Cirqce  
has certain rules and boundaries that she  
upholds in personal integrity.  
She did not leave the general's body  
to be eaten with mold and lie rotting.  
She invited the soldiers to enter in  
her small haven, instead of forcing to  
report back to Qo'NoS head bowed, dishonored  
They walked to her domain knowing full well  
the fate that lie ahead, and they too knew  
she'd honor their desire to be a person  
be seen for what they are, not what they do.  
They were not bewitched, tricked, or enchanted;  
their general would have told them of her wiles  
Nyota says there have been quiet whispers  
in tlhIngan space, of Circqe's hidden isle.

"More than this, I know-- all living things have  
minds, it is the beauty, of life's great range  
in species life's produced. All life has signs  
we often cannot read, or discern  
the language it may use. If the tlhIngan  
soldiers are restored, they will retain all  
personality. Being changed in form  
does not imply a complete loss of agency.  
If life is given freedom it will choose.  
If not, do what it needs to stay alive."

"Spock, that's a huge leap in deduction there.  
You don't know really if they chose to go  
You don't know really if she lets them be--  
she could make them happy by lobotomy  
and even if every person can feel  
each species' bodies adapted to deal  
with their surroundings and we have developed  
specific structures for memory and time.  
I'm not saying that we are the better--  
I'm saying that we were born to this kind,  
to this body, this place, to this moment  
and with it, hold our own problems we seek  
to resolve. The tlhIngans are war-weary,  
but so are we. They have to live their own life  
to see, how everything turns in the end."

 

\--  



	9. viii. moly

\--

 

And so with those words the Captain kept posted  
three sets of teams monitoring the keep  
While Keenser, Scotty and Bones would develop  
protection from Cirqce’s dhuoNoR ray beam  
The teams every hour checked in to report  
activity of the people within  
The first thing they said: “The place is enormous  
spanning some thousands of square kilometers.”  
The second thing was: “Nobody ventures  
to break through the boundary, no one escapes.”  
Though escape would be to toxic environs  
no traces of corpses were found anyway  
The third thing was: “They all look so normal  
so hard to believe they were all warriors.”

Scotty gave Jim his hermean pendant  
“It’ll neutralize dhuoNoR; I can’t guarantee  
that this is enough to counter the beam.  
It might only partially work, you’d be  
stuck half in one half in other form, Jim.  
We ran all tests we could find and invent.”  
Jim palmed the device, as small as a coin  
“You’ve gotta be crazy-- you’re not going alone!”  
“Captain, I strongly--” “Spock, Scotty, Bones  
you listen to me and you follow my orders  
I’m only risking one man from this ship  
if anything happens, do not mount a rescue;  
we don’t want to implicate ourselves in this shit.  
I know your opinions but I’ve thought this thing over:  
what if she just kills us all with her beam  
what if she brings us inside but refuses  
to let us go back to our ship safely?  
what if she changes the tlhIngans and they all  
decide to attack her and us, declare war  
What if the transform can’t be reversed  
What if the people aren’t tlhIngans at all.  
And I know, Spock, these are insufficient  
for me not to bring a full team for support--  
actually, you’d say it’s all the more reason  
for you to come with me and enter her fort.  
But think of it this way: she’s alone and  
outnumbered, maybe she’s trying to live  
the way that she wants. Maybe she’s exiled,  
maybe this is the only peaceful solution  
she’s found for the way the tlhIngans search and then  
attack her, keeping them alive and unharmed.  
But will you respect that I need to do this  
alone, and leave it at that? Will you respect  
that I have a gut feeling, and trust me  
to come through alive and intact?”

“Captain--  
You ask much. To ask me to wait. To ask  
this after you’ve already died. Captain--  
Jim-- I trust you with life. Why won’t you let  
anyone be by your side?” Spock stepped forward.  
“I will respect your wishes to do this alone  
but do not ask me not to mount rescue.  
You once gave me your ship to command  
through dire crisis. Do you trust me to give  
good command in your absence? To judge  
what is best for both you and our crew--  
do you trust me in this, as I now trust in you?”  
Bones took in the sight of the Captain and Spock  
Scotty and Keenser quietly walked out,  
the question hanging as spider’s webbing  
Jim nodded, so slightly, slowly exhaling  
when Nyota came running before he beamed down.

“Captain, I know there are words without meaning  
a vow upon honor can break, but now  
you need every weapon and chance we have,  
if nothing else-- words buy you some time.  
If the witch Cirqce is willing to speak,  
if you think her tlhIngan honor is true,  
ask her to swear a vow to you thusly:  
that she will not harm you or this crew  
whatever the outcome of your combined talks.  
And you must then swear the same vow to her:  
that you will not harm her or her people  
whatever the conflict between your two views.  
If you believe that this is worth trying  
it will ease negotiation for the both of you.”

Nyota saluted, the Captain acknowledged  
then stepped on the transporter pad with face  
blank and detached; then eyes took one glance at  
Spock staring at him, eyes dark with emotion  
“Good luck to you, Captain. Energize, Mr. Scott.”

Jim went to the dome and stopped without touching  
the crackling barrier popping with HoS  
He wasn’t quite certain what he would do next  
when the barrier opened and Cirqce stepped forth.  
“Come in, Terran. Let’s discuss this inside.”

 

\--  



	10. ix. circe

\--

 

He felt the dhuoNoR beams screaming to fold  
his composition to a different shape  
The pendant on his neck vibrated, rolled,  
but held and neutralized the ray’s intent  
Circqe turned back and watched with hooded eyes  
but did not seem surprised that Jim was not  
reformed to other shape. Jim staggered, gasped,  
then pulled out his phaser-- they stood like this,  
both silent, weighing fate. Then suddenly  
five warriguls emerged, their hackles raised,  
teeth bared and crests unfurled, hissing their threats  
at Jim, circling around. Circqe commanded,  
“Mevyap!” and they stood down, still hissing low,  
eyes fixed still upon Jim. He ignored them,  
addressing Circqe first, “I came without  
intent to harm your kin. You aggressed first,  
attempting to change me, without my will  
or knowledge or consent. You violated  
tlhIngan hospitality-- it is my right  
to ask of you payment. So I ask this:  
swear unto me a vow, upon your honor,  
if your honor is still true, that you will not  
harm me or my own crew. Swear to me this  
and I will swear to you, the same promise  
for you and those you hold dear. But swear me this.”

“My honor is intact, and I am not  
the first to commit trespass. You and your men,  
encircling my home, were the ones first  
to transgress. But my honor is intact  
and I have now, in good faith to you, Terran  
stood down my warriguls who would  
tear you to pieces and devour them. Thus  
before I give this vow, show me good faith  
and put your phaser down.” He slowly did.

They swore to each the vow and breathed deeply.  
“Terran-- you must be Captain Kirk, of whom  
the tlhIngans speak with words contradicting.  
My name is Cirqce, banished by the new  
Qo’NoSian tyrants whose rule disintegrates.  
And these are Garuk, Kuth, Boshar, Tvgy,  
DagaS, whose stories I will relate. But  
come to the house, let us dine first, because  
empty stomachs only create dissonance.”  
Jim, never one to fight ‘gainst good fortune,  
followed Cirqce as the warriguls ran beside  
He watched as their tails and their tongues twitching  
trembled, knowing that dinner was soon to arrive  
She walked to her door and the five waited  
sitting obedient before bursting in  
pacing the hall as she went to the cabinet  
eagerly waiting for sweetest of sounds:  
dry leathery insects mixed with some qagh  
Life really couldn’t get better than that.

Dinner was awkward with stretches of silence  
Jim complimented her cooking, her drinks  
her furniture, hayfields, defenses, to keep  
the clink of utensils scraping on plates  
from sounding like disruptor fire at her gates  
The warriguls lay at her feet, and she  
excused herself to feed the vlghro' their meals;  
they refused to come in sight of a stranger  
Night came and with it more serious things  
Cirqce set her eyes on Jim with intent

“Garuk and Kuth are both tlhIngan soldiers  
Garuk had some renown in her day. Kuth  
was part of the same Duj whose orders were  
find me and bring me to stand trial for treason.  
Their ship was hit by their own deadly fire  
bounced off my shields reflected back to them  
These who were the only survivors I found  
I transformed them into warrigul soldiers  
They help herd the tangqa’ to freshly grown fields.  
Garuk and Kuth get along like two brothers  
DagaS and Garuk will fight bitterly  
Boshar and Tvgy are content to wander  
the front house’s yard, sleep under the tree.  
Boshar was one who came and surrendered;  
she asked me to make her forget what she’d seen  
Tvgy is deathly afraid of the thunder;  
he hides when he hears the barrier creak.  
DagaS dislikes me, he often will wander  
the boundary, whining for home he won’t see.  
The sargh, three came together as exiles  
science officers all running from Qo’NoS  
They would have preferred to remain tlhIngan  
but these are my terms, if they dislike them  
they can go somewhere else. Sibv’ is the oldest,  
her joints are now buckling. She must always  
be within sight of phLeS. phLeS will panic if  
Sibv’ isn’t with her-- I’m worried how  
she will cope when Sibv’ passes. Sometimes I see  
Qrago gently nudging phLeS forward, as if  
he knows Sibv’s ailments and phLeS’s future needs.  
The others I found in one form or another--  
unconscious, spores growing, or nearly dead  
I don’t know their origins or how they came  
to this planet which most tlhIngans dread.  
The spores may be toxic to both of our species  
but to us they smell terrible, worse than HoQ  
perhaps this sounds like a silly deterrent  
but smell provokes memory and to live smelling HoQ--  
imagine living with the taste of betrayal  
permanently stuck under your tongue.”

“And the others? You can’t tell me that the  
targh really wanted to be targh instead  
of their tlhIngan forms. You can’t tell me  
all this is defensive-- there must be at least  
ninety tlhIngans transformed. I watched you today  
allow one to destroy himself against your wall.  
I watched as you ordered the rest to surrender  
rather than let them walk away from it all.  
You cut off the arm of that tlhIngan so tell me;  
Where is he now? Happy as a sargh?”

“And if I had let them go back to their planet?  
What do you think would have happened to them?  
There is no honor in Qo’NoS now, Captain!  
They would be dishonored, imprisoned, then  
if they’re lucky, a quick execution,  
otherwise forced to years of hard labor  
That is the truth of our world now, Terran!  
It may not be just and it may not be right  
but justice and right have long been dead  
What matters is now and merely surviving  
I will not risk my life and my haven for them!”

“If all the good people run away from the planet  
of course nothing will change, things will get worse--  
I don’t understand why you don’t try to help them  
you’re not the first tlhIngan who sees only the worst  
and does nothing to change it or stop it.”

“I will not place on my hands more red blood.  
I will not try to lead armies to battle once more  
What you saying can only be done  
paying the price of a great civil war.  
I will not have any more crimes on my conscience.”

“Then why do all tlhIngans who seek your shelter  
have to agree to take on other ken?  
Why can’t you make it so every tlhIngan  
builds a new home, a society of friends?”

“This is not a space for all tlhIngans.  
This is a space for me to take rest.  
I will not risk this space to be broken  
by sabotage, betrayal, or quarrel.  
I do not have the energy now  
to negotiate between all their interests  
I do not have what it takes to build up  
a government, trade, vocations, the rest.  
I only can take responsibility  
for my own actions my conscience, my guests.  
If they don’t like it they can go somewhere else.  
Some go to Orion, some go to Guelph.  
If I were to build a society  
with my name, Qo’NoS would take it as a  
challenge to war. They would never stop  
until we had surrendered or all died  
trying to live as we want. This is what it is.”

“You’ve given this a lot of thought.” “I have.  
I do what I can, given what I can do.  
But I have a right to live and live well.  
I have the right to protect my home haven.  
I have the right to protect myself.  
I won’t turn away anyone who is desperate.  
I won’t leave the wounded to die smelling HoQ.  
I won’t kill another tlhIngan or save them.  
I won’t compromise what I’ve built for myself.  
Societies might change but I will not do it.  
Times may get better but I will not wait.  
I am here, right now, in this place with a measure  
of happiness, peace, with a measure of fate.  
I will not give up what I have for another.  
I will not risk my responsibility.  
I know each one here like a friend and a brother  
I promise to give each space to live as they are  
no demands made, no duty, no czar.  
I will not turn them back, I will not hand them over  
to be stripped and punished for crimes which are guiltless.  
I will not help you or your Federation  
only give you a name you may seek when you’re gone.  
If you truly burn up with desire to work changes  
first go down to lhedaS and seek SeplH’ne.  
If you truly believe that your fire will sustain you  
first speak to the dead and then you will see.”

Jim, deeply troubled by her declarations  
opened his mouth to argue the points  
but she shook her head, and bid him to follow  
through the back door to the cool nighttime air  
He could almost see the movements of vlghro’  
prowling to hunt their game in the darkness  
He heard the soft grunting of tragh nearby  
The tangqa’ she pointed to westward were sleeping  
huddled together like the cows missions past  
Sargh were nowhere in sight, they’d moved onward  
all the bo’Degh were asleep in their nests  
Jim could not in that moment find fault with  
her feelings, her desires and self-imposed limits  
Despite that, which ones were willing and which  
were just forced to accept her terms living  
no one could guess. He wondered who was she  
who had blood on her hands and crimes in her chest  
Who was she, whose mere name might ignite  
a hunt to kill all dissidents taken flight?  
She was not like Qyklops, weary but loyal  
still working under the current regime  
She had said she was exiled, but chose not to  
seek asylum elsewhere. Whoever she was  
she was clever and brilliant, improving  
upon old technology, using the same  
obsolete weapons to make her defenses  
and thus far succeed. If she had been born  
in an age that was wiser, she would have been  
a great enemy. As things stood now  
she saved her defiance to not do more evil  
than was already wreaked. Jim wondered  
what he would have done in her position  
if better or worse came in play, but Spock’s  
voice came to him chiding, they were different people  
diff’rent cultures and ways.

Jim looked up to see  
the night sky of opal, but spores obscured  
any view of the stars. He looked at Cirqce  
whose gaze was disquiet, like struggling to keep  
heartsickness at bay. Her face grew blank  
as though she remembered, sharp old pains  
and again had remembered those too were gone.  
This home was her haven but perhaps too a prison;  
she could never leave without risking the deaths  
of herself, of her fields, and all her free people  
and Jim found himself breathless that she had helped  
by taking a chance with a ne’er-do-well Terran  
whose only ability is to do what he can.

So he did not protest when she took his hand softly  
and led them back into the house to the bath  
She stripped off his shirt and filled up with hot water  
the bronze basin and he stepped in, standing unsure  
She pushed his shoulders and he sat overwhelmed that  
this would be the first time anyone was so tender  
seeing him naked in pain, weak and unmanned  
She poured the warm water over his shoulders  
She poured down his neck, his chest and his back  
She poured water and then submerged him  
under the water and his body went slack  
he did not want to emerge but she pulled him  
up and then bathed his arms and his legs  
When they were finished she took myrrh and anointed  
his body and he wept, body heaving with sorrow  
for dying, for living, for fear and for waiting

For grief and the billions of lives blown away  
For Christopher Pike, whose faith was unshaking  
in his worth and good as a person, for Khan,  
For the horror when Admiral Marcus denied him  
mercy when he begged for their lives, not his own.  
He’d understood why Khan had a reason  
to think Marcus had killed every one he’d beloved  
He’d never known that death has no mercy  
only a mocking face, then they’re gone.  
Khan crushed his face to kill his own monsters.  
Jim understood the logic of that. He fell asleep  
dreaming of monsters who laughed when he spoke  
until he shouted back-- “You’ll die someday too!  
What’s funny about that?”

And up on the ship  
Spock watched and waited, counting the heartbeats  
that passed in the night.

 

\--  



	11. x. barley

\--

 

Jim found peace but Spock became distant  
confused by the fire churning in his side  
Their next two missions he avoided his captain,  
while his lover Nyota watched and again realized  
that again Spock could not face the truth of his feelings  
towards Jim and towards her-- he would rather disguise  
his truth with veneer of obligation and duty  
sincerity with rules and regulations to provide  
a familiar, convenient, intractable boundary  
between himself and his grief, himself and his life

But Nyota was tired, heartsick and homeworn--  
sometimes such illnesses happen in space--  
she had her own grief and her own revelations  
her own bitter truths to eat and embrace  
else displacement would cause rot twixt companions  
the silence of anger, betrayal, and blame  
She had this to face: that she could not change him  
Though he might love her and cherish her heart  
she could not make him see his reflection  
or desire to live, impassioned, happy at heart  
Too much of life he equated with duty  
A Vulcan must optimize functional existence  
too much of grief he associated with cruelty,  
of Nero and Khan killing with the insistence  
that it was their right for hurts inflicted on them,  
while Marcus would kill for the sheer joy malicious  
of leading his warships to battle and condemn  
the Federation, tlhIngans and his life to vicious  
war, wardeath, and death, and death.  
She could not make him see any different  
possible reasons to live, not when she  
herself was not certain that life is not grief  
and grief is not sea, that sea is not endless  
endlessly endlessly covering reef  
That reef does not hide the shattered ship bodies  
of those crushed by fateless, merciless sleep  
that some ancient sea god does not condemn them  
to wander ten years the fell fathoms deep.  
She could not give him a reason to want more  
not when he was her reason to stay  
and venture five years in deep space with a captain  
whose fortunes were wrecking and wingtorn away,  
his hubris punished for making a bargain--  
a life for a life for a fire for an aye.

She could not change him but it did not stand to reason  
she could not find her own reason to stay  
She could not dispel his dry droughted season  
but she felt winds bringing soft rains her way  
She could not keep living her life for his losses  
She could not keep living her life for his pain  
She knew if she left the shock would draw forces  
that he tried so hard to erase, keep at bay  
but life must be lived-- soft rains were coming  
to revive her wonder and passion again  
She left Spock to find his own way forward  
She walked out of the sea and into the rain.

And indeed, it was raining on Venetas planet,  
the sky slightly purple under grey misty curls  
the pink and green tiles of the clocktower granite  
the wide open square colored mother of pearl  
The natives had dressed for their great carnivale  
faces enmasked with clay white and bronze  
hands gloved with lace, blue powder and holly  
heads wreathed in evergreen needles and palms  
They waltzed in the streets and laughed throwing barley  
seeds to the capricious canal river gods  
They danced with light feet, inviting Nyota to partake  
in festival and dressed her in brocade from abroad  
She listened to bells chime far in the mountains;  
she listened to bells tolling deep in the hills  
There were bells everywhere drawing spirits to fountains  
to feed on the leaves and the wine that were spilled  
to entreat the immortals to let cold leave their city  
let winter’s reprieve from growth and from loss  
recede back to spring, let the blue water lilies  
once again their sweet canal waters emboss  
Nyota listened and watched the white barley unnumbered  
swirl in the waters and float to the sea  
Nyota opened her mouth and sang unencumbered  
by rhyme, rhythm, words, intonation, or creed  
She sang with the sounds of each language she knew  
Romulan, tlhIngan, Vulcan, Deltan, Orinic  
Andoran, Terran, Greek, Latin, Venetic  
Nibiran, Songbird, Bee, Orca, and Maru  
and that day became a legend her own.  
Jim danced with her, listening to her song  
Spock understood in that moment she’d left him  
and tried desperately not to be afraid.

 

\--  



	12. xi. rams

\--

 

Pick up the beat and sing something lighter  
The _Enterprise_ found a strange planet to test  
the theory that humanoids colonized all planets  
for here was a land of honeyed milk to attest  
that all manner of ungulates, cows, yaks and goats  
might be ones who are able to boast  
that they are the conquerors of every world  
not predators, emperors, or weapons unfurled.

Pavel and Scotty, a little too curious  
about the herds of black sheep running with woolly tails  
(and Scotty, a Scotsman, remembered so fondly  
the pastures of Scotland, the hills and the dales)  
were determined to trace ancestry back to Dolly  
the old Terran ewe of old Edinburghese  
scientifically, of course, this question was folly  
but this deterred not our Scotsman-in-fleece.  
They managed to capture a black ram and an ewe  
after much running and panting through panicking flocks  
while Sulu and Christine laughed on the sidelines  
and Keenser watched cackling atop of a rock  
Pavel tried soothing the ewe all a-tremble  
whose bleating was breaking his hard Russian heart  
He imagined that if he could understand her  
she was crying to him and to the flock  
“Don’t leave! Let go! Don’t tear! Depart!”

Scotty sort of forgot that these sheep are not Scottish  
They were wild and unused to contact with those arts  
of shepherding, shearing, milking and slaughter  
but still knew predation, fear, and the mark  
of a being whose eyes stared a little too closely  
for interests to be totally benign from the start  
Scotty held the ram, whose heart was a-racing  
as still as a cornered person can be  
Scotty thought his job finished, got ready to transport  
when the ram bucked and butted, kicked him in the knee  
The black ram ran to Pavel who gave no resistance  
he let go of the ewe immediately  
She ran back to safety with the ram close behind her  
while Christine quickly scanned Scotty to see  
if the old ram in self defense had inflicted  
any grievous hurt or bad injury  
but the only thing wounded was Scotty’s adventure--  
the flock never let them near ever again  
Scotty limped, bruised and sore but laughing already  
about the time he was bested by a ram  
Keenser, Sulu, and Christine unpacked their basket  
laid out a soft blanket and sat down in the glen  
where the five feasted on bread, milk, and honey  
red beer and red mutton of replicator-gen  
happy and breathing in satisfaction.

Yet Pavel remembered a time when the ancients  
sacrificed ewes to the gods and their ken  
and Sulu remembered a time when Odysseus  
drew red ram’s blood to speak to the dead.

 

\--  



	13. xii. pits

\--

 

A few days after drifting idly in uncharted space and charting it  
the scanners showed a Class M planet  
with advanced life forms and warp-capable ships  
They all prepared, excited, fluttered, to make a formal First Contact  
everyone speculating wildly  
what kind of ships this life form had  
what kind of culture, buildings, beauty,  
what kind of dark and artifice  
what kind of language did they use:  
prime number, scent, or catalyst  
Each First Contact committee was assigned  
a message and a beam-down spot  
Dr. McCoy insisted on going down  
because “What the goddamned hell, why not?  
We’ve been stuck staring into blackness  
the empty boring void of space  
if I don’t get off this ship sometime  
I’ll go stir crazy and mistake  
Spock here for a real compadre  
and that would be a sure sign I’m baked.”  
Spock tilted an eyebrow, looked at Jim  
Jim looked back smiling and replied, “Sure  
go down with Spock’s team to this mountain--  
meet and greet some aliens, then go tour  
their giant temples and stone altars  
Spock says they should be marvelous.  
I’m going to be in the next big city  
hanging around if things go to shit.”  
“Who’s got the conn?” “Sulu and Scotty.”  
“Why two?” “If it comes down to it  
Scotty will handle ship operations  
and Sulu will deal with rescue outfits.  
Chris Chapel’s acting CMO-- anything else?  
You ready to go?” “Ready as I’ll ever be.”  
“Don’t worry, Bones. It’s fun. You’ll see.”

Nyota’s team was first on planet  
and were the first to speak to it  
they reported the people were delighted  
and overwhelmed, and ecstatic  
The other teams had similar stories;  
it seemed the planet was ready to greet  
other species and intelligences  
eager to learn and eager to speak  
new languages, see stars, and join in the spirit  
of exploring the expanded sphere of their world  
Jim smiled so widely, heart breathing happy  
because _this_ was why he loved being transworld--  
things like this, the moment of Contact  
made it worth all the whirl and the swirl.

Spock and Bones, the last team to transport  
readied themselves for loud greetings and fits  
but when they beamed down to the stone temple mountain  
there was silence, and silence, and one giant pit  
The silence stretched onward from stone to stone altar  
The landscape was covered in grey misting clouds  
As clouds disappeared, reappeared, they saw farther--  
more deep black pits were scattered around  
Each one was perfectly square, black mouth yawning  
Each one was perfectly bare except when  
a few pits exposed the white roots of black poplars,  
and fruit-perishing willow reeds littered the bins  
Spock, Bones, and team did not break the silence  
fearing some evil, or sacred word in the wind

They smelled before hearing the panicked, “Sir, this way!”  
and ran, dreading, steeling themselves for the sight  
One great pit, the largest of all of them,  
fifty-five cubit, fifteen cubit, fifty-five cubit wide  
was filled with the blood, bones, and skin of the beings  
they expected to greet on this day planetside.

Spock vomited. There was no way for suppressing  
reaction, not when the bones were stacked cubits high  
ordered and neatly arranged by type and color  
the skin soaked in blood and the blood pooling dry  
He did not realize he was on his knees fisting  
the grass, grinding stones into palms into thighs  
He shuddered to feel a hand on his shoulder  
Leonard looking at him with grief in his eyes  
Spock stood, inhaled, tried to collect all his feelings,  
ordered tricorder readings and research on the lives  
of these drawn, quartered dead neatly packed and reordered  
premeditated to be scalpelled and whittled to size.  
Later, after double shock ran through the planet  
and mourning commenced tempering revelry,  
the species explained that these were the few who  
believed breaking warp would bring tragedy,  
invaders, conquerors, destruction of planet  
slavery, misery, anarchy, plague  
an apocalypse of malevolent demons  
broken out of the pits of the black holes of ague  
They submitted themselves to be killed on the altars  
in old belief that this mass sacrifice  
would entice the demons to end the world faster  
and spare their souls from suffering twice.

Bones disgusted, Jim resigned, Nyota hurt, Sulu blanking  
Pavel grim, Scotty speechless, Carol shocked, Chris stoic  
but Spock-- Spock, for once he was scathing  
angry and reeling, his words unconfined  
“Who were these credulous, vacuous, fatuous people  
who commit suicide for specious rite--  
my people would _kill_ for a chance to be living  
my people were _killed_ without chance for a fight  
I would give _anything_ for one more chance to  
smell the dry air of Vulcan evening sunlight  
I would give _anything_ for one walk up to  
the red sacred mountain and once more recite  
the prayers of Surak alone in the desert  
and find the deep calm of silent starlight.  
I would give anything to give them a chance to  
escape into life as I escaped into life.”

And in strange alignment of stars and re-verse  
Bones was the one to answer him first  
“I grieve with you, and hear you and see you  
I’m sorry for your loss and the misery  
of death haunting you like a terrible shadow  
You are not alone. You might never be free  
of the pain of the death of your planet and people  
this you might carry to forever entreat  
but this I can promise, and this only:  
You are not alone. This is not defeat.  
The universe is wider and older than knowledge  
that is the only truth you can meet  
Grief is the force bringing chaos to chaos  
from death within life, to life of blood’s heat.  
But this I will promise, and this only:  
You are not alone. This is not defeat.”

\--

Or perhaps the mission went like this, we’re not certain  
They go to the planet but there are no warp ships  
They simply go down to make observation  
They transport in teams, nothing special in this  
Once again, Spock and Leonard go on the high mountain  
Once again, they find a field of square pits  
but in this, they don’t find any bones or surrounding  
temples, stones, people, or signs of a dig  
This time, the silence does not carry evil,  
only wonder, amusement, curiosity, and calm  
How did these pits come to be on the mountain  
How were they dug in perfect squares one and all  
and this time, perhaps, Spock would not find sick anger  
instead try to find a pattern in the lea  
relating dimension, distance, and possible function  
to the species who lived on the mount previously  
Perhaps he would find trace samples of barley,  
wine mixed with water, and stone figurines  
Perhaps he could detect milk mixed with honey  
poured out on the bottom for something to eat  
Were the pits used as pens to keep in their livestock  
or as houses due to the rarity of tall trees?  
The layout suggests some symbolic importance;  
perhaps it was offering for the deceased  
The winds would be gentler to his speculation;  
experience would fuel his wide reveries;  
the doctor would walk quietly among the black hollows  
and remember those buried last year by Starfleet  
They would return, subdued but not broken  
again by the sight of those lying dead  
Spock would keep hold of this precious feeling  
of walking on old, quiet, hallowed, unsaid  
land which once was sacred to someone  
returned now to the mountain, forgotten, untread.

 

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Scene of mass suicide/human sacrifice.


	14. xiii. begin

\--

 

“We’re going to Qo’NoS.” “Captain?” “Commander.”  
“We are ordered to Qo’NoS?” “No, this is my command.”  
“May I ask to what purpose.” “I finally found out  
the way into lhedaS and we’re going to plan  
a way to get in, get out, meet those tlhIngans,  
talk to one person named SeplH’ne.”  
“I find that your statement only partially answers  
the content of my original query.”  
“When I was down talking on Spoorical Planet  
parleying with the tlhIngan Circqe,  
she told me to find the entrance to lhedaS  
to speak to the dead, and then I would see.”  
“See what?” “I don’t know, that’s why we’re going.”  
“Captain I must question your rationality.”  
“You can question, but Spock, this is really important.”  
“Another ‘gut feeling’?” “Yeah-- intuitivity.”  
“Jim, that is not a word.” “I know, but you like it.”  
“Illogical to prefer nonsensical things.”  
“But maybe when we’re famous, it won’t be nonsense.  
They’ll put all my words in the dictionary.”  
“Jim, you are hopeless.” “Let’s gather the crew.  
We need all our team to help us review  
plans, backup plans, and backups to backups--  
think of this as a covert goodwill black ops--”  
“Yet another entirely contradictory--”  
“You get what I mean.” “If I may resummarize:  
we are going to go to Qo’NoS secretly  
in order to contact a tlhIngan alliance  
whose interests would benefit the Federation greatly  
due to the fact that they are defiant  
in face of the current despotic regime.  
The reason we could not risk alerting Starfleet  
is the heavy surveillance of the tlhIngan defense scheme  
who would have rooted out all our contacts  
and executed them summarily.”  
“Spock, that was pretty brilliant.  
You’re getting better at this whole lying thing.”  
“Captain, I am not lying, I am simply reporting  
the likely facts of the matter, it’s quite probably  
the true explanation.” “Except that it’s not.”  
“Probabilities are statistics rooted in math.”  
“Statistics are bullshit, we all know that.  
Okay, okay, don’t give me that look.  
Go find the others and forget the books.”

 

\--


	15. xiv. discuss

-

 

“Jim, are you crazy? Why would we go back?  
Have you forgotten we nearly started war in that place?”  
“Doctor, I assure you, the Captain has no such  
gaps or deficiencies in recalling that date.  
I have already attempted to dissuade the Captain  
but he says it’s important, therefore not up to debate.”  
“But why are we planning on sneaking up on the tlhIngans?  
It’s a bit mad, especially since they hate  
us and are jumping for any excuse to start stellar warfare  
especially after Marcus tried to use us as bait!  
(Sorry Carol.) I was off the ship one bloody day  
and the _Enterprise_ was almost a toasted tea plate!”  
“That’s why we make ourselves not be detected.”

“Keptan, I do not think that’s a wery feasible plan.”  
“Pavel’s right, sir. The ship isn’t exactly made for concealment--  
she’s a big flying saucer with blue glowing warp brands.”  
“Then give me a solution, Sulu and Chekhov.  
I want to hear crazy ideas, possibilities  
because like or not, we have to go there  
we have to take this chance to find out and see  
whatever it is Circqe said we would find.”  
“You trust her completely?” “With my body, soul, mind.”  
“Then her honor was true. You never did tell us  
what happened to you.” “I wrote the report. You looked it over, Nyota.”  
“Not the same thing as confiding  
outside captain’s log quotas.  
If you trust her, I trust her. The tlhIngan long ranging scanners  
can be tricked into seeing--”  
“Ah! Yes! Farther away than we are actually being!”  
“Chekhov? Nyota?” “It won’t hide us completely,  
but it gives us a start to the answer you’re seeking.”  
“My father developed a tlhIngan signal jammer  
that works in close range, so perhaps we could fly  
using the long range scanner deception  
until we can jam their signals and buy  
ourselves some time to slip through their web  
of stellar surveillance and safely land in Qo’NoSian tide.”  
“Are you saying you’re going to put my lady starship  
at the bottom of the sea one more bloody time?”  
“Captain, I don’t think for the length of this mission  
we can sustain having the _Enterprise_  
submerged in their waters, which might be loaded with mines.”  
“Sulu’s got a point. It’s probably best to leave the ship flying  
‘cause we’ll probably need to fly out on a dime.  
The question is, where will we park her?”

“If I may say something?” “Go for it, Mr. 0718.”  
“If we reappear and then maintain maneuvers  
similar to debris trapped in Qo’NoSian orbit,  
we may evade undue attention by scanners  
as their computers will correct for new orbital waste.”  
“An interesting proposal, and not without merit;  
however, such maneuvers would be difficult to make  
and maintain for the extended duration  
that this covert mission will likely take.  
But you have reminded me of an observation  
we on this ship were all able to make  
there is an extensive sector of the planet’s moon  
which was pulverized by Nero’s mining freight.”  
“The debris field there would provide perfect cover--”  
“My transporters could easily cover the range--”  
“The tlhIngan regime could not possibly hower  
and conducting endless patrols in lifeless terrain--”  
“Their communication signals would be crippled and buffered--”

“But wait, hold your horses--  
before we all congratulate Spock for his eyes--  
how do we know there aren’t tlhIngans there living  
how do we know there aren’t criminals who lie  
low and make that their base of operations  
for exactly the same reasons y’all praise to the skies.”  
“Len, we don’t have anything better. I think that’s a risk  
we must recognize.” “Chris, you’re a tactician?”  
“Dealing with patients is an extended mission  
in tactics, cajoling, and strategic compromise.”

In all this, Jim was pensive and silent,  
turning over and over the words in his mind  
“Speak to the dead”-- this was not literal  
of this he was certain (well, more or less certain--  
space might find another way to be weird)  
but if not the dead in literal meaning  
then perhaps she meant those dead in honor so dear  
Perhaps lhedaS was in this very same sector  
which-- Bones was right, would hold the queer and the feared  
those who did not fit with current culture  
and those who would not bow, refused to revere  
whether due to true honor or simple survival  
Jim thought perhaps they would find answers here.

He made his decision: “We’ll park her near Qo’NoS  
in that sector that Spock talked about  
Now let’s review some evasive maneuvers  
and plan our ground teams, our objectives, our routes.  
I want all of your to be open and honest  
I want all of you to voice all your doubts  
we have to go into this prepared and all conscious  
of the risks going in, and the risks coming out.”  
Jim looked at each of his crew there gathered  
made eye contact to see if he had their assent  
he looked straight at Spock, who exhaled and nodded  
and then a very, very, very long meeting commenced.

 

\--


	16. xv. action

\--

 

“Comms blacked out, Captain. Disguising our signal.”  
“Ready, Mr. Sulu?” “Lt. Chekhov’s still inputting the course.”  
“Expect anything. If they fire, punch it.” “Got it, Captain.”  
“Scotty? How’s the engines?” “The engines are fine--  
they’re not what I’m worried about, Jim.” “Got it. Keep me posted.”  
“Bones, why are you always on the bridge when shit happens?  
Shouldn’t you be in Sickbay with Chapel?” “Of course not.  
Who else is gonna keep your head on your shoulders?  
I’ve always been up here to keep _you_ on course.”  
“Lt. Chekhov, Mr. 0718?” “Still calculating final approach, Keptan.”  
“They will be inputted by 0753.” “Lt. Marcus, how’s your jammer?”  
“Functioning beautifully. It ought to send a large blast radius  
that will cover our entrance. When you give the signal  
I’ll initiate the sequence.” “Nurse Chapel, things quiet?”  
“Nothing unusual. I hope to keep it that way, Captain.”  
“I’ll do my best up here. Where’s Spock?”  
“Here, Jim.” “Sensor’s good? Qo’NoS quiet?”  
“Affirmative on both counts. If we approach carefully,  
they should have no awareness of our presence, Captain.”  
“How long’s this going to take?” “It will depend on maneuvers,  
ideally it will take less than eight hours to complete.”  
“‘Ideally’-- you jinxed us.” “Captain.” “Spock.” “Will you two stop it?!  
We’re about to hurl into enemy space and you’re bickering.”  
“Spock, just don’t say ‘ideally.’” “Our plans are sound, Captain.  
We have considered contingencies and most exigencies.  
Our only difficulty will be locating lhedaS-- on this point  
I cannot offer reassurance.” “Lt. Uhura, did your department  
find anything to help us?” “We’ve pored through the maps  
but there’s nothing there. It sounds like slang, Captain,  
or some forbidden word. We went through our comms  
but no mention anywhere.” “Do you think it’s the center or periphery?”  
“I don’t know, Jim.” “Use your instincts. You know tlhIngan Hol  
better than Spock.” “I think it’s the edge. Somewhere old and neglected.  
lhedaS is an archaic name.” “Lt. Uhura-- do our databases have  
any old maps of tlhIngan? When the new regime conquered--”  
“They renamed all the cities! That’s brilliant, Commander.  
I’ll notify my department immediately.” “How’re the shuttles, Giotto?”  
“They’re all prepared, Captain. We’re standing by if you need them.”  
“Standby on that-- we might be able to beam down direct.  
I’ll have the transporter room forward you any coordinates  
in case you’ll need to fly the shuttles to get us.”  
“Captain.” “Commander.” “The Away Team rosters--”  
“I’m taking all my core crew.” “Your instincts?” “Yeah, I know.  
But this is important. The assistant heads will see this through.”  
“An inopportune moment to test their readiness.”  
“It’s that important.” “We may all be killed, and the ship--” “Spock.”  
“Jim.” “Do you trust me?” “With my life.” “But with the life of the crew?”  
“I admit I am cautious.” “Good-- I need your caution. But you trust me?”  
“Yes, Captain. I do.” “Keptan. We haf finished inputting.” “Great.  
Lt. Uhura, anything from comms?” “Nothing yet, sir. I’ll inform you  
as soon as we have a something.” “Everyone ready?  
Ship-wide, Lieutenant.” “Done.” “Attention all crewmembers.  
We’re about to go into tlhIngan space. Comms are blacked out,  
and everyone has their orders. I can’t say what we’ll find  
on this mission, but it’s strictly a mission of contact,  
not war or intelligence. We go in peace, even if they come shooting.  
So keep that in mind if things start to go down.  
Everyone knows their part, everyone has their duty  
Beamdown is in eight hours, so let’s get this done. Kirk out.”  
“Ready, Mr. Sulu? Punch it.”

They warped out.  
Bridge was quiet, but ship continued all activities.  
When they reached the Neutral Zone’s edge, they dropped to sublight  
and calmly maneuvered-- a few tense moments with sensors  
but the _Enterprise_ slipped past tlhIngan’s defense net silently  
professional, deadly in their competence, practical, military.  
The engine had a hiccup when they parked in the moon’s shatters  
The comms department found an old map showing  
lhedaS. They beamed down. Were soon found.  
Jim mentioned Cirqce and SeplH’ne.  
Requested an audience.  
Using terms for peace.

 

\--


	17. xvi. persephone

\--

 

“You sought lhedaS. You have found it.  
I am the one called SeplH’ne.  
I protect this realm. I rule its number.  
I administrate. I oversee.  
This is the place the dead come to gather  
This is the place the dead will speak  
This is a place for those without honor  
an internal exile, a place to weep.  
I am qumwl’ of this region  
I am older than mNoS. I survived his tests  
Nobody wants a post in the ruins  
of the old Empire’s center, where ghostly unrest  
whispers curses on the souls of the warriors  
buried on Qyklops’ unsown, unpressed  
Elysian fields. You said you met Cirqce;  
I have never met her. Tell me what you saw  
and I will let you come in. Tell me of your worlds;  
what is ‘federation’? I know what I’ve heard  
but what is the true name?  
Tell me of your worlds, of your admiral’s treason  
of your life on your planets, of the lost Vulcan way.  
Tell me your stories and I will open the speech of  
the inhabitants here, let you speak to the graves.  
From each of you, I want hear you  
in your words, your language, let nothing come in our way  
This is the price to enter lhedaS. This is what I ask  
if you desire to stay. If not, then leave.  
Go back where you came from.  
There is no use in unequal terms.  
The dead do not speak for you to listen--  
the dead speak for you to converse.”

 

\--


	18. xvii. nkishi

\--

 

“A life for a life, you say?  
Then I will speak first.  
In tlhIngan Hol  
because I can  
I learned to speak from my mother’s parrot  
who taught me words beyond human  
My first words were not Earth-Standard  
they were the cries of an infant  
They were not words as linguists consider  
They were mere sounds expressing intent  
Nkishi didn’t care for classified words  
she took my language seriously  
She spoke to me as I spoke to her  
if I laughed, she laughed with me;  
if I cried, she soothed me with water;  
if I spoke, she replied to me  
She taught me how to whistle, click  
She sang me songs of crickets, crows  
She hummed the words of honeybees  
She gave me everything I know  
My joy in speech, my talent of tongue  
my amazing range in mimicry  
are nothing compared to hers  
she could speak Standard, tlhIngan, Street  
When we watched holovids together  
we’d listen close and imitate  
every nuance in every sound,  
practice until we had its shape  
Nkishi always learned it first  
and repeated it for me to say  
We invented our own languages  
a mix of Deltan, Pidgin, Fay  
the only thing we could not speak  
was Nkishi’s wild and native tongue  
She never learned from infancy  
their words, their sounds, their rowdy song  
My mother taught her Earthan words  
my father taught her limericks  
our house taught her machinery  
our street taught her cat, dog, leaf, brick  
In holovid she learned to sing  
old, ancient Earthan languages  
all this and more, she gave to me  
the roles reversed from her early days  
when they spoke for her to them reply  
She spoke to me, I spoke her way  
scientists will say we didn’t know  
meaning in our whistles, neighs  
but I will say-- I know we did.  
I say now, I know we did.

Nkishi loved to fly. We played  
Pirate Planet where she led  
me and our motley bird crew  
across space to rescue the parakeet  
or find the seed stash of the emu  
We negotiated with the cats  
for knowledge of their alleyways  
We entered treaties with the dogs  
for entrance through their yarded gates  
We decoded the secret speech of frogs  
whose summer nights were full of heat  
We cursed the horns of hovercars  
We played small tricks when builders ate  
their lunch, imitating clinking nails  
as though some ghost were working late.  
As I grew older, I lost much of  
my aural range, my vocal tone  
The toddler flexibility  
slowly eroded, stiff to stone  
When Nkishi died at eighty-five  
I lost her and my first language  
I lost my companion in spoken sound  
I lost my friend, my teacher, bridge  
between what is accepted as a word  
and what is actually said and meant,  
between language as a rigid form  
and language as experiment  
You hear me speak without mistake  
in grammar, pronunciation, grind  
Nkishi would have spoken better  
she would have looked you in the eye  
and spoken in pure tlhIngan tones  
aware of every word she said  
inventing words as she went on  
to name your wordless, speechless dread  
She would have called it Haj’al’bom  
Avip’yIn, or best-- notqa’Saq  
the vulture’s perch  
She might accept if your offered hand  
held courtesy and respect to her.

You ask a story  
I gave you one  
this is the person that I am  
if you risk speech  
I will risk sound  
to meet you halfway  
to the end.  
More than this, Nkishi showed  
that every sound contains a word  
some words are soundless, body bound  
some bodies speechless, eyes alert.  
You fear-- I see it in your shoulders  
There is no shame in saying that  
I fear-- your griefs and deaths are older  
calcified to smoothest plaque  
Do not despise us for our lives  
and we will not judge your deathly state  
let taboos broken here resound  
let things said here have proper weight  
In the name of she who lived and loved  
every sound from any place  
let our exchange of spoken death  
be honest, open, may Qun give face.”

 

\--


	19. xviii. orion

\--

 

They met the tlhIngan, one named Orvun  
whose shack was filled with animals of all species  
but unlike Cirqce, whose people were health-firm  
these were hurt, insane, damaged, diseased  
either mistreated and abused by warbird soldiers  
who thought warriguls were things and not feeling beings  
or tormented by harsh experimentation  
of the Imperial Science Hall of Great tlhInganese  
many were strays who came when they wanted  
knowing this place to provide some safety  
many were brought in by friends, strangers, neighbors  
who might find one lying still on the streets.

The smell was indescribable, a slight lingering mix of  
feces, urine, blood, and moldering food  
Orvun was constantly scavenging for resources  
to take care of his growing family brood  
The captain and doctor offered to beam down  
med supplies, boxes of replicator rounds  
but Orvun refused-- if he were caught with supplies  
stamped “Starfleet Federation” they would impound  
all his people and gas them or play target practice;  
confiscate his belongings and send him for a round  
of hard unending labor in the ubiquitous prisons  
and it would not be prison that would break him, but the sound  
of his family fighting desperately from being found.  
As it was, the authorities tolerated this amusing,  
eccentric tlhIngan who didn’t do much harm  
and sometimes would send them a beautiful pelt to  
keep them appeased and look away, charmed.

“They don’t know I was once tlhIngan HoD  
on my way to be director of their science program  
I once believed that our kind was superior--  
that it was our right destiny to expand  
that we held the truth to all other species--  
I’d forgotten these other species include friends.  
I have always grown up with warriguls, sargh, vlghro’  
I know their expressions, personalities, scents;  
I have been with some from birth to the moment of death.”  
He looked away from them.

“In order to complete youth tlhIngan war training,  
they tell you to find an egg of bo’Degh.  
Care for it, keep it warm until hatching;  
feed it milk mixed with worms, seeds and old bread.  
On the day that it spreads its wings to start flying,  
break its wings and its beak, tear the eyes from its head.  
Bring the body, still living, to HoD and be rewarded--  
your first stripe for completing what you started.

"I was ready and eager to kill alien species,  
believing that they had no right to live.  
I never thought the right was not extended  
to other Qo’NoSians who are blameless,  
so I left-- and leaving was not easy.  
I was imprisoned, tortured, humiliated and arraigned,  
but after the ordeal I managed to get out  
and build this place to live out my days.  
The time goes by caring for all of my people;  
this empire has even less space for those deemed  
outside its circle of life-worthy species,  
but we get by. That is life in the main:  
do not live on your knees.”

 

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Cruelty to animals.


	20. xix. kolokol

\--

 

“Zere is a story  
in a film  
a boy’s willage,  
dead from disease.  
The boy’s father  
a bell maker  
of wide renown  
The prince there seeks  
his agents take  
the boy who says  
he can make bells  
with father’s keys  
who gave to him  
before he died  
the secret to  
bell’s ringing peak.

The kolokol  
needs people, clay,  
needs pits dug wide,  
needs furnace made.  
The boy nineteen  
and craftsmen, they  
build, cast,  
pour molten alloy  
silver, bronze,  
crack open mold,  
clean, scour, polish,  
hoist up the bell  
for judgement from  
the tyrant prince--

The bell rings pure.  
The boy, he cries.  
His father never  
gave him keys;  
he built the bell  
flying blind,  
risking his life  
and craftsman’s lease.  
the bell, if failed,  
would spell the sound  
of all their deaths  
deficiencies  
unforgiven  
metal bound  
silver mixed  
impurities.

I am nineteen.  
I know the sound  
of warp core engines;  
the hum they make.  
I do not know  
how to make them.  
I do not know  
all the relays.  
Scotty and Keenser  
they were gone.  
The engine groaned  
I pulled the brake;  
Keptan asked me  
to patch a fix,  
to keep us flying,  
to keep awake.  
I tried ewerything  
and realigned  
the engine, she  
gave all she had;  
If we were not  
attacked in warp,  
we would haf reached  
our home launch pad.

Sometimes you give  
more than your all.  
It fails.  
There is nothing you  
can say to that  
except face falling,  
burning up,  
listen for death,  
acknowledge that  
you risked it all  
for moment’s sound  
of kolokol  
giving life’s years.

When engine failed  
I somehow found  
the Keptan, Scotty,  
hanging in air.  
I pulled--  
I don’t know how--  
I pulled them up;  
I remember fear.  
I remember terrifying fear.  
It gave me strength  
to do what I  
could never do  
as I appear.

The last fall up,  
Keptan, he found  
one more thing  
to give to bells.  
He climbed the tower,  
took the tongue,  
realigned,  
and made it knell.  
I lived again  
to hear the hum;  
he died without  
telling to me  
the secret of  
the silver drum.  
For that, I cried.  
For that, I weep.”

 

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Колокол (46:23)](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RwCJoEJFW5g)


	21. xxi. clouds

\--

 

“Vulcan--”

“His name is S’chn T’gai Spock.  
You will address him formally.  
He is my yaS wa’DIch and so  
give him respect accordingly.”

“QoS, HoD Kirk.  
yaS wa’DIch Spock, will you not speak  
of all you’ve seen-- the loss of Vulcan  
your captain’s life, the ‘aj Marcus  
and rot of Federation Starfleet?”  
“ghobe’. I cannot.”  
“Not to us, not in this place?”  
“I will speak on his behalf  
if you’ll accept my words for his space.”  
“Speak, HoD Kirk. I accept your words.”

“We went on mission, Spock and I,  
down to a planet covered with flies--”

“The planet itself supported a variety of life forms;  
it was not monospecific as the captain implies.”

“You want to tell this, or should I?”  
“Please continue, Captain. I apologize.”

“The _region_ we beamed to  
had an unusually high density of flies.”  
Jim looked at Spock  
Spock looked away, nodded.  
“There were eggs and larva everywhere.  
It got under our suits and into our hair,  
we could barely hear through all the buzzing,  
our sensor scans were useless, fuzzy.  
Everyone beamed up in quarantine  
the ship reeked with hexachlorophene  
from all the decontam procedures.

"That’s not the point. The point is that  
these fly-like creatures  
can mass together in a cloud.  
The black cloud then takes on the features  
of your blood relations gone to ground.  
We don’t know how they manage this,  
we don’t know how they read the shape--  
the worst thing is that their speech is  
endless formless indiscriminate  
ruthless buzzing like a scream,  
their black mouths crawling and their eyes  
hollow as they walk towards you,  
collapsing to another sight.  
I saw my father recreated;  
I saw my mother’s hair in black;  
I saw people I didn’t know were related,  
clouds shifting, shivering to diffract.  
I was affected by the flies  
because it’s fucking freaky shit,  
imagine seeing anyone  
reanimated as a maggot pit.

"But Spock--  
You asked to hear about his planet  
I’m going to tell you through his dead.

"Spock’s entire house was decimated  
only he, his father, T’Pau still stand.  
He’s never told me of his house,  
its ancient place, its lineage,  
but that day I saw for myself  
the multitude lost, the ghastly visage.  
Some five hundred Vulcans encircling  
all related distantly  
their faces flickering, shifting with flies,  
their silent roar overwhelming--  
elders, children, brothers, wives.  
And in the middle of the crowd,  
Amanda Grayson, his mother’s guise,  
formed, dissolved, reformed, enshroud,  
as if the cloud took sick pleasure  
in replaying her moment of death  
over, and over in desperate measure.

"Spock tried to make contact  
he tried to touch them with his hands;  
use his skills as telepath  
to gain insight and understand.  
But every time he went to touch,  
they dispersed like coal-dust windblown sand;  
when he stepped back, they would reform.  
The tricorders gave nothing grand,  
just a massive mass of crawling flies  
arranged in weird-shaped swarming bands.

"You say we’re speaking to your dead--  
I understand why you call them this,  
but you have not spoken to the _dead_ ,  
who can’t reply, just scream and hiss;  
who are embodied in a swarm  
a mindless mass of meaningless  
ghosts you thought you’d never see,  
who stare and reach for you to flinch.

"It took that mission for me to know:  
I have no fucking idea what a lost planet means.  
The dead there represented blood,  
not friends, not the life of their desert cities;  
their native plants are all extinct,  
their animals, insects, bacteria, birds,  
their temples and their libraries,  
their legacy exploring worlds.  
Can you imagine losing more  
than face, honor, and dignity?  
Can you imagine loss so huge  
it encompasses everything you’ve seen?  
tlhIngan’s paralyzed, that is true,  
but it’s not lost to singularity.  
Death is the only absolute  
everything else, we’ve got space to breathe.

"That’s why I say,  
you give respect  
to someone who is still living,  
exploring space to seek, protect  
new life forms,  
new life,  
new anything.  
He’s the one  
who kept me  
from starting war here  
a year ago.  
He’s the one  
you have to thank  
for trusting  
I know where to go.

"I’m here to build,  
to start again,  
to find a common ground to stand.  
If death must be that common ground  
I’ll tread softly  
for my friend.”

 

\--


	22. xxii. tantalos

\--

 

“I am Bruk (Qel Vakghaldr) of Qo’NoS;  
I was imprisoned (directed) tlanthla’LoS.  
I strive all my life to serve the glorious  
empire of our great tovarIs mNoS,  
who metes out his justice (judgment)  
with a cool, steely fist (steely fist)  
and guards (watches) Fatherland,  
wheels grinding the grist (desist desist).

“I am Qel-- Bruk-- Qel-- Bruk (Vakghaldr);  
I was tor-- dir-- tor-- dir tortured on tlanthla’LoS.  
I strove-- strive-- strove-- to-- serve  
our great Qo’NoS  
I invented the mind-- mind-- mind-- mental (broke),  
who metes out his justice with a cool, steely fist;  
I invented the mind-- mind-- mind-sifter (broken)  
and guards the Fatherland wheels grinding the grist.

“I am Qel Vak (ghaldr) of tlanthla’LoS;  
I directed, invented, and researched  
the mind-- mind-ripper on tlanthla’LoS.  
I was desist (denounced) by tovarIs,  
imprisoned and tortured with my own device.  
I cannot-- can’t-- will not-- remember  
my name, face, family, past or the glare  
of the words that I speak as you sit in the chair.

“Our great tovarIs aQam has rightly denounced you;  
your memories we can all see while you stare  
into the rays of the brain neutralizer.  
It seems five years ago you spoke to B’vare,  
who has been tried and denounced as a traitor  
to our great Fatherland and tovarIs mNoS.  
And three years ago you had contact with lhatIr,  
who fled his ship and high command post  
to defect to the Orion slut slaves like a dead ghost.

“And is it not true that your mother and father  
were Qel kind as well of intelligentsia class?  
That they did nothing to advance our great cause of  
spreading great tlhIngan honor unto the great mass;  
clearly they were the worst kind of roaches,  
and you are no better than they are, of course.  
each moment of life marks you as filthy traitor  
to hide amidst honorable tlhIngan warriors.  
You once watched this prison: now, you are prisoner!

“I am Bruk (tired) of tlanthla’LoS (sorrow);  
they decided not to grant me mercy  
of wiping my identity, crimes, and my conscious,  
for why should a traitor be punished easily?  
No-- it is worse-- I always strain to remember  
my name, my life, my friends, my past;  
sometimes it comes but then I surrender  
to excruciating pain that through my mind casts  
a net of forgetting, but not quite forgotten.  
Then I struggle again to regain what I lost,  
forgetting that each time this plan misbegotten  
leads to clear memory and instantaneous loss.  
I strive all my life to serve the glorious  
empire of great tovarIs mNoS  
I am not a traitor, I am forgotten,  
erased from the records, off the list crossed.  
I say this to you that you might remember  
for in a few moments I will soon forget  
your names, your faces, and the sweet scent you brought with  
your bodies of freedom, expression, of lethe;  
the pain, the pain, the agony breaking.  
please do not leave, let your scents remain;  
please help me help me help me screaming.  
I won’t let you-- I won’t-- you can’t take it away!

“Who am-- what are-- who are-- when  
why am I-- what are you-- you’re not tlhIngan ken--  
You’re Terran! And Vulcan! Alert the warbirds!  
We have enemies in our midst! We have invading hordes!”

Spock quickly nerve-pinched him  
and touched his sad face;  
he felt the wrecked damage  
of this thlIngan mindspace  
he did not have time  
to heal all the raw wounding,  
to make him remember,  
or make him forget,  
but he could leave  
an impression resounding:  
the scent of their bodies,  
which had so impressed  
Qel Vakghaldr, scientist of tlhIngan,  
denounced and exiled,  
betrayed to lethe,  
who had the misfortune  
of using, inventing  
a terrible machine  
and was in his turn, a victim of it.

 

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Dagger of the Mind](http://www.startrek.com/watch_episode/M8MbJRH2Trtu)


	23. xxiii. meg glasch tel

\--

 

“Unlike the rest, I don’t share the _Vengeance_ ;  
I left after Vulcan to work on a remote colony.  
Unlike the rest, I never respected the captain,  
who lost everything on his maiden journey.  
They said he saved Earth when he really lost Vulcan;  
they said he won battles when it was really defeat.  
I don’t blame him for the wins or the losses,  
but if he takes credit for one, he must take everything.

I’ve been serving on missions much longer;  
my lover and I met our first year in Starfleet.  
my lover, he died when the _Vengeance_ crashed into  
the bay to the edge of San Francisco city.  
We’d been researching together new immunizations  
discovered from texts on the planet Exo III.  
Roger was on Earth at a medical conference  
when the ship shattered skyscraper into the concrete.  
I did not learn of his death until a week later;  
news travels slow from the center to edge country.  
When I heard the name _Enterprise_ , I cursed every starship  
that has ever, will ever, flies our galaxy.

Our lives are littered with suppressed casualties.  
I am a nurse: as a nurse I am used to  
dementia, death, trauma, all kinds of disease.  
I am a person: as a person I question  
the cause and effect and the meaning of grief.  
I have not found an answer: I am on board to witness  
my fate unfold under command of this death-hounded ship thief.  
I lost my friends in the _Farragut, Lǜ Lóng_ , and _Pluton_ ;  
I almost lost Carol in her mad curiosity.  
I came back for her and for no other reason,  
when all your loves die, you cling bodily  
to those still alive, you endure every season  
of mind-numbing, body-blowing, life-crushing grief.

Leonard I respect, and Spock I admire,  
Nyota I now count as one of my friends;  
Scotty is a good man, and Keenser is wicked,  
Sulu and Chekhov I know, but don’t quite understand.  
Carol I love, though we stand like two polars--  
she creates weapons while I live to mend.  
Sometimes between us there is silent tension  
she didn’t live Vulcan, I wasn’t there when  
her father showed his bloodthirsty, god-awful colors,  
sparing her life at a cost that would have been  
unbearable to anyone’s conscience.  
She thought she could buy mercy but found nothing.

The captain has changed. He discovered his limits;  
he died and recovered-- this, I can respect.  
We both carry griefs unspeakable to others.  
We now stand as equals. We live to protect  
this precious peace, our threaded existence,  
more fragile than youth leads us to suspect.

If I have learned one thing from life on this mission,  
it is: there is no defeat, nor is there success.  
There is only time, thread unspooling wildly,  
cut into its pieces, allotted and spread  
across the wide worlds, to all species and creatures.  
We cannot take credit, we can’t assign blame  
for the way things unfold, we can only live in it,  
use what we have and remember our name.  
I am Christine Meg glasch Tel Chapel;  
my grandfather Tellarite, my mother became  
the best politician since Lwaxana Troi of Betazoid  
this is the secret I hold to profane:  
the desperation of grief, the ease of surrender.  
This is my story, and for this I remain.”

 

\--


	24. xxiv. sisyphos

\--

 

“There is a high place in the heart of our planet,  
overlooking a large freshwater lake like a sea.  
In those hills, there is ore, and ore is demanded  
for building, for warships, for technology.  
This place is not very high when compared to  
our mountains, our buildings in the jeweled cities,  
but when you must walk every day up and down it,  
it is very high, so high, so impossibly  
cold in the winter, mud in the spring,  
hot in the summer, cold again too quickly.  
The only thing walking that holds you together  
is that blue, blue expanse stretching far like the sea.

"Every day, we must wake and eat crusts for black breakfast  
then we trudge from the camp to the base of the hill,  
carrying with us great boxes and picks for extracting  
ore from the rock and rock from the hill.  
Another troop carries heavy shovels and axes;  
it is their job to scout out new sites  
for mining more ore, then they must cut down the  
sor and the brush and build a path to the height.

"Every day, we walk up the serpentine path,  
which slithers through the hill with empty box on our backs.  
We fill the box up with rocks and then head down  
single file once again on that serpentine track.  
We must walk down slowly, for the boxes, they bend us  
over with their weight and footing can’t be slack,  
lest we fall, bodies tumble, rocks spilt like water  
and miss our quota for that day in the rack.  
We are forced to walk quickly back up the serpent,  
the pIn’a’ beating the sweat off our backs.  
We are forced to do this over and over,  
no matter the season, our hunger or wrack-  
ing cough that takes our whole bodies aback.

"You may wonder why a great civilization like tlhIngan  
uses manual labor instead of ship-kind,  
for this is how we used to mine mountains  
and build cities and bridges, instead of heave high.  
But the answer is simple, two reasons deny.  
The first is: people are cheaper  
than ships, ship building, all technology.  
The second: only warriors may outfit  
a vessel which flies, only warriors may leave.

"I have seen too many die on the hillside  
hands trembling, arms straining, legs weak in the knee,  
their eyes hollowed out by the unending labor  
of walking up, going down, ore crushing their being.  
I have hauled rocks down the hill  
when ice froze on my eyelids,  
when my skin was red oozing with bites from the fleas,  
I have walked up thirsting desperately for water  
mind numb, not feeling any sense or degree.  
I have walked with my brothers, who loudly were singing  
of longing for home, for a place to be free,  
I have walked with indifference up this small mountain,  
indifferent to living, indifferent to be.

"But there were rare moments, in all my walking,  
when I looked up from my feet bent with ore  
I saw the wide lake and the sun on it glitt’ring  
I saw the sky and the beauty once more.  
Such a desolate place, so quiet and lonely  
but old, so much older than my suffering  
the waters so still and serene and so lovely,  
reminding me that after death she would be  
there, standing witness with her deep and cold water  
not a promise, but something that you must know to see  
how my heart took solace in seeing that water,  
still, quiet, calm, and serene.

"I am alive today. Do I call this living?  
I do not know what living might mean.  
I only know the face of the water,  
keeping my heart deep under her streams.  
I only know the song of the mountain,  
longing for her to weep for their dreams.”

 

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [По диким степям забайкалья](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jB5MMfCpj88)


	25. xxv. tamara

\--  
  
  
“You asked how I find  
the instinct to fly.  
  
I had a dog,  
a girl named Tamara,  
who lived with me  
after the captain had died.  
She was a stray  
who followed me home from  
the ship repair yards  
at Riverside.  
She wasn’t a beauty;  
she wasn’t that agile;  
she didn’t do tricks;  
she didn’t really like  
anyone else  
to come near and touch her--  
she’d bristle her hackles,  
then suddenly bite.  
  
Everyone told me  
a dog that unfriendly  
is dangerous, hazardous,  
should be euthanized  
I have no idea  
why I decided to keep her,  
but she chose me--  
I couldn’t leave her if I’d tried.  
  
Every day  
I’d wake up, go running,  
she kept pace with me,  
then we’d go for a ride  
speeding across  
flat country highways  
to the site  
of the  _Enterprise_.  
I’d check in with the captain,  
get warp notes from Scotty,  
inspect shuttles with Carol,  
check up on supplies,  
collab on navs with Pavel,  
figure panels with Keenser,  
conference with 0718,  
work auxiliary with Madeleine,  
and in all this  
she stayed by my side.  
  
Everyone learned  
to give her wide berth  
get used to her presence  
respect her fierce pride.  
She was cool and aloof  
distant to friends and strangers  
except Nyota, Bones, Christine,  
Darwin, and Madeleine.  
After work I’d go back  
with her to the apartment,  
we’d go walk to the river  
and then she and I  
would swim,  
chase the squirrels,  
dig up moles,  
watch the beetles,  
do anything  
everything  
except  
go to fly.  
  
Since the events of the  _Vengeance_  
I didn’t touch flightcraft,  
since our falling through atmo  
I never once tried  
to keep current on training,  
clock hours for simming,  
practice anti-G straining,  
or work out-- I lied.  
I just couldn’t do it  
I’d get claustrophobic,  
throw up and panic,  
didn’t matter what exercise.  
I think if I didn’t  
have Tamara beside me  
it’d be so much worse,  
like losing my life.  
  
But she was there  
I’d wake up to her licking  
my face when my nightmares  
blew up in my mind.  
She was there, sitting calm  
when I sweated while driving;  
she’d look at me, trusting  
when I’d pull off to the side.  
  
The pieces came back  
they came back really slowly.  
No one mentioned it, worried--  
they said I’m such a zen guy,  
keeping my cool  
in all of our crises,  
keeping my calm  
in the aftermath’s tide.  
  
I’m Sulu.  
I’m steady.  
That’s true of all pilots.  
You can’t fly a ship  
without discipline designed  
to immediate response  
to all captain’s orders  
and immediate reaction  
to the situation’s timeline.  
Tamara, she knew me;  
she kept my convictions,  
she slept right beside me--  
a brief year--  
until the day that she died.  
She left me as suddenly  
as when she had found me,  
and that night I broke down,  
and that night I cried.  
  
That morning I woke up,  
went to our shared river,  
buried her under  
our beloved willow hide.  
That day I went  
straight to the shuttles  
launched into air  
through atmo to fly  
back up to space  
and when I descended  
I stared at our planet  
Pale Blue Dotted fly.  
She lived there, Tamara--  
she lived without telling  
me her whole story,  
though I told her mine.  
She lived there, and I will  
always be humbled,  
grateful and wonder  
why she chose to spend time  
with a human so wingtorn,  
tired but functional,  
drained of the smaller  
pleasures of life.  
  
She lived, and gave me  
my life by being  
all that she was,  
without compromise.  
She lived.  
That is how I fly.”  
  
  
\--


	26. xxvi. penelope

\--  
  
  
“My father was a weaver. He taught me the skill.  
My mother sewed ceremonial robes from the brocades,  
but my father loved tapestry most of all.  
  
I remember-- as he prepared his weighted loom,  
he never knew what scene would come from the threads.  
In his early years, he loved depictions of battle,  
of warriors mounted on sargh, spearing tusked targh  
with warriguls circling round the fatally wounded prey;  
or scenes of Du’, tIr in the fields, the shadows of scythes at harvest time;  
or the great ngem with Sor, light filtering through branches.  
  
In his middle years, he changed radically;  
he began working with patterns and color,  
things every weaver masters before creating tapestry.  
My father began weaving in fields of shifting color;  
he sold fewer tapestries, but he hung them all on our walls,  
watching the dull colors catch fire in sunrise  
and bright colors fade with age and exposure to light.  
  
Then the tide came, and looms were abandoned  
for war preparations and warmthless turmoil,  
burning anything for fuel, eating anything for fuel.  
My mother found work recycling cloth from warrior uniforms;  
my father worked digging canals by day,  
weaving on his loom by night, his pockets full of lint  
to feed his loom. I learned to weave using my father’s scraps;  
he taught me subtle tricks to make broken thread seamless,  
to draw the middle color from threads of opposites,  
to draw patterns from repetition without design.  
My father taught me to accept the rhythm of the loom  
and the instincts of fingers, which sometimes breaks strands,  
sometimes chooses the wrong thread,  
sometimes refuses to accept a perfectly woven piece.  
  
My first tapestries were unspeakably ugly,  
made of bloodied cloth, hair of animals, metal wire;  
but my father saw them and told me, I had a gift,  
so I continued to weave. We wove standing together  
every night, as my mother sang old songs  
to keep the beat of the shuttle weaving back and forth.  
  
Canal work is dirty. Digging. Draining. Pouring cement.  
They pushed all the workers so hard, in the name of Empire;  
even the strongest succumbed to exhaustion and broken hands.  
My father, unskilled in construction, did the most menial things--  
transporting dirt in carts, removing rocks from the soil,  
mixing cement. He came back, less and less  
each night. One night, he went to his old loom,  
the one his mother taught to him-- he threaded the warps  
wrapped around the back strap, and began to weave.  
His hands were rough and cracked, broken nails and filthy.  
I don’t know what he used, how he found such beautiful SIrgh.  
  
The last tapestry he wove, he never finished.  
He is buried under the canal.  
I weave every night to complete what he started;  
every morning I undo it,  
unable to trust the rhythm of the loom.  
  
My mother lived on much longer, by night sewing,  
by day delivering drinking water to the workers.  
She lived on even to learn the new loom machines  
that produced thousands of squares of thin cloth  
going from worker, to vu’wI’ of ten, to nach of one hundred,  
her uniforms outfitting ten million warriors.  
I did not ask her, when she died, what she found in her life.  
By Qo’NoSian honor, we lived and rose.  
When my mother died, she simply breathed, “At last,”  
turned over, and was still.  
  
I-- chose this place  
not out of exile, but searching for that piece of myself  
I lose every day with the sunrise.  
At night, every thread fits my fingers.  
I can hear my mother’s voice singing,  
and my father’s gentle breathing,  
as I stand and weave.  
Come day, the loom stands a menace  
the warps frayed from years  
of weaving, unweaving;  
the threads are covered in the oil of my fingers,  
and I can smell the canal waters in the cloth.  
  
I did not understand, until seeing you here,  
that it is my death I am weaving.  
Every day I undo it, in some strange instinct  
to find another pattern,  
another fate to our lives.  
Every night I weave  
to regain nameless things lost  
in the passage of our time.”  
  
  
\--


	27. xxvii. roses

\--  
  
  
“My mother grew roses. She didn’t have a green thumb.  
Each spring, I’d count the rosebushes which,  
no amount of digging ‘round the roots and spraying antifungals  
would bring them back. Each spring, my mother would  
expand her garden, planting more than she’d lost.  
  
She was a research scientist, interested in terraforming.  
She imagined a programme where any planet,  
no matter how barren, could be made to support humanoid life.  
She considered the conditions for roses to be perfect  
for any humanoid civilisation: temperate, moist, and bright.  
If I hadn’t specialised in weaponry, I might have considered  
ecoforming instead. Or perhaps something completely different.  
  
The principles of ecoforming are different from ecology. In ecoforming,  
the assumption is that there is no ecosystem to balance,  
only raw matter. It’s much like a chemical equation,  
and my mother sought to find the right reagents in the right proportions  
to establish her rose equilibrium.  
My mother and father were both devoted to expansion,  
reaching into space through two sides of the same principle:  
the idea that we might subjugate by willpower alone  
through the force of our technology, whatever stood opposed.  
  
My mother’s rosebushes never lived longer than five years  
but it didn’t matter because more roses could be bought  
at the greenhouse. She had an arsenal of fertilisers,  
automatic watering systems, and pesticides.  
Her new plants always produced wonderful blooms  
the first two years, before declining in their last three.  
Fungus, mites, disease, frost--  
most often the graft would die and wild stalks emerged.  
When Vulcan was lost and they searched  
for a new planet, I didn’t understand why they didn’t choose something  
that would make colonisation easier. Or change  
their rock garden for something more fertile.  
I understood the desire for a familiar climate, but New Vulcan  
has less water for more land. Why not ecoform  
to recreate what they had before? Wouldn’t that be  
in their best interests for the survival of their species?  
The Vulcan Science Academy vehemently opposed any plan  
of planet-wide ecoforming. Localised modifications, they accepted.  
But they despised my mother’s work. Just as they abhorred  
my father’s use of their planet’s destruction to justify  
his military preparations against Qo’NoS.  
My mother loved her roses and took pleasure in every bloom.  
But there was always the feeling that the bushes came second to  
her image of freshly cut flowers in a crystal vase.  
She was attentive to their every need  
except their individual ones. And that is where, I think  
  
my parents failed. I don’t think it called for open disdain  
on the part of the Vulcans. They never bothered to explain  
their self evident truths: that within their idea of IDIC  
is the first principle of ecology-- every ecosystem is unique.  
Attempting to recreate Vulcan, or a planet for roses  
destroys the diversity and strange environment of the planet  
a new, unknown place.  
That within the Prime Directive is a mandate to themselves--  
to allow the ecosystem to change their species  
just as they are changing the ecosystem.  
  
My father and mother were partners in the same endeavour  
to make worlds safe and habitable for us,  
somehow blinded to how it sweeps away other, unknown lives.  
My father was willing to save me, and only me  
because he was not willing to remember: life is unique.  
My mother died in London, casket smothered in peach roses.  
The local gardening club tends to her rosebushes now.  
  
I am in space to change the world, and let the world change me.  
That is the exchange that fathers and mothers fear for their daughters  
and for themselves.  
On this ship, with these people, in the time, at this place  
I believe I can change the world, but they ask of me--  
Do I accept First Contact?  
Can I first accept that there are many worlds old, wide, unknown  
and will I let them change me?  
Facing this is like touching face-crushing fear.”  
  
  
\--


	28. xxviii. epikaste

\--  
  
  
“I was collected during the Great Militarization;  
they called it collecting then, not imprisonment.  
All the old words were hurled down as deceitful symbols,  
now the old words have come back in the years recent.  
The collection-- I did not have good Suvwl’ background;  
my mother came from Du’, my father Suy kind.  
But in those days, the prisons were not as bad--  
the labor was hard, the plank beds were cramped,  
but we had food and even some days of rest.  
This was before the press for machine-building fervor  
came to an unbearable fevered pitch,  
days that most tlhIngans cannot even remember--  
they are too young, children during the switch.  
  
I was on the collective serving time with hard labor.  
The men and the women were in separate camps,  
but this fact for us never prevented  
somehow finding each other and seeking contact.  
  
I became pregnant. I had not finished my time.  
Babies and children are forbidden to us--  
they took my child without even telling me  
whether it was daughter or a son.  
They sent my child to another city  
to be raised by a warrior birthed family chun.  
I cried bitter tears that night, breathing softly,  
feeling loneliness beyond what I thought could be borne.  
  
The years passed. Labor eased my dry sobbing;  
the rhythm of work rubbing life to my bones.  
I was released. Though the collection time followed me,  
I found a good job in a large factory,  
assembling parts for the warbird weapons.  
I spent my free time with my new friends happily.  
A few years passed in this way; times grew harder,  
the war and the purges swelling to strong  
sweeps of a tide that we could not resist, and  
it was in this time that he emerged like a song.  
  
A young man, quiet, with clean iron honor;  
he’d completed his schooling with engineering degree  
to improve the machines of weapon manufacture.  
ever practical, he began by questioning everybody:  
What were the parts that broke down the fastest?  
What were the parts that were difficult to fix?  
What would we do in his stead for this project?  
What kind of improvements did we think we could list?  
That is how we came into contact;  
and who could have guessed that we would fall in love?  
He admired my steady, soothing work rhythm;  
I admired his hands, gentle like a dove.  
  
We married each other when the purges were blackest;  
he stood true to me and I trusted him like no one.  
When the worst hunting had passed, I found myself pregnant--  
in the years following, I bore two daughters, two sons.  
  
One summer’s day with the sun high above us,  
tlhIngan officials appeared at our step.  
They looked at our children, asked to speak to us in private  
we feared, but did not know what to fear yet.  
They stepped into our home; I felt sick to my stomach.  
Would this be about my collectived years?  
would this be about his work, did a silent  
traitor denounce us-- and why did they leer?  
  
‘You, epiKhas, once bore a child who was taken away  
to Kh’ritlh to be reared. Is that correct?’  
‘I do not know. They never told me  
where the child would grow. My knowledge has been dark all these years.’  
‘You never once thought to seek to find him.’  
‘I did not know I had borne a son. I sought only to  
find a place in Qo’NoS, to fulfill my duties and live with Qun.’  
‘You bore a son in the year the Great Militarization  
was finished ahead of its seven year plan.  
You bore a son who was given in Kh’ritlh  
to the family P’lybus, who raised him with the demand  
that he excel in the disciplines of weapons and science.  
So he took a degree in that course and came to this land  
to work in a factory to improve manufacture  
of our warbird disruptors and fiery brands.  
He has served Qo’NoS well, meeting every demand.  
  
'So impressed was the Director-Qel factory commander  
that he desired to trust your selfsame son and husband  
with the construction of a new, larger better weapons plants.  
but we find now it is impossible to grant  
this otherwise remarkable honorable man,  
for he has taken as wife his mother’s own hand.’  
  
You cannot know what I felt.  
You cannot know my despair.  
To see the face of my beloved husband,  
the lost child of my labor whom the fates had begotten--  
such a tale of blood. Blood, labor, despair.  
To see in my children, my sons and my daughters,  
lost in fates, blood, labor, despair.  
  
That very next day my husband was working  
the weapon exploded, burned his hands and his face.  
It blinded him and rendered his hands dead and useless;  
he almost died from the shock,  
but I could not let him go so I wrapped my arms to embrace.  
‘It is not our fault that our paths became twisted--  
we neither could know this secret hid in our blood.  
the fates have been cruel, but beloved, I will kiss your  
sweet eyes and sweet hands and sweet lips despite blood.  
You are your own person with a past from me distant--  
I am my own person falling in a love of my own.  
Fates made us one blood, but beloved, I resist it--  
I don’t believe fates led us to cursed love of our bones.  
I do not love you for a son’s blood and body--  
You do not love me for my birth of your life.  
We love each other for the strength lent in darkness;  
We love each other for our joys despite strife.  
Beloved, our children. Can you regret them?  
Can you regret such small beautiful lives?  
They should not exist by blood-lined ordinance  
but what is done is done, can you regret life?’  
  
Thus you find us here living. Together, in exile,  
children now dispersed. One daughter a healer;  
one son a priest, another musician and the last  
likely deceased-- she was running to Orion  
we have not heard of her since.”  
  
“What was her name?” “ant’Qlan. Wild and untroubled.  
She knew of her blood and hated tlhIngan’s laws.  
She thought she might find answer in stars.”  
  
“We’ll look out for your daughter in our travels  
We’ll tell her you’re here, still living in love.”  
  
“I am getting old, my husband’s health is failing;  
the pain of his eyes never leaves him, he says.  
We may not live many more summers.  
Fates have been harsh, even after we fled.  
But in all this, I will never regret  
choosing blood-cursed, fated life  
over choosing our death.  
In all this, I will always remember  
these years learning life  
endures even incest  
and allows us to live  
through its horrors and threats.”  
  
  
\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Incest.


	29. xxix. daedalus

\--  
  
  
“I’m no good with words  
and neither is Keenser;  
back on Earth, after  _Vengeance_ ,  
Nyota took me to see a painting.  
She said it was important, so we went.  
I know my limits--  
Keenser’s seen them long ago--  
that’s why I resigned my commission;  
that’s why I let go.  
When I can’t do something, I can’t do it;  
not a matter of willpower or physics.  
Keenser won’t do, won’t follow  
into what he can’t fix;  
we agreed to that early on.  
  
Push each other farther along in what we know we can do,  
that’s easy.  
I can break a few transwarp equations,  
he can break what’s possible in a warp core:  
we won’t break each other.  
  
That moment, turning in my PADD,  
Jim was willing.  
It was in his eyes.  
It didn’t occur to me, as much as he was willing to break ship and crew,  
he was willing to break himself.  
  
Do you know that myth about Daedalus?  
Nyota took me to see the painting,  
and that about sums it up.  
Ikaros falling—fallen, head in the water, legs kicking,  
shepherd and plowman looking the other way,  
like they’re distracted by the clouds.  
That’s what falling is.  
It doesn’t matter if it’s feathers, wax, and the sun  
or a starship with radioactive engine.  
  
This is the thing--  
the myth of Ikaros:  
I was going to tell Jim  
before he knocked me out.  
Keenser was on his way, with a portable transporter;  
just relay the coordinates  
and he could get directly into the core,  
without the climb,  
realign the bloody thing and stabilize us before we burned up.  
And what’s more:  
he’s immune to the radiation.  
Jim wouldn’t have needed to die.  
That’s what I witnessed.  
Pointlessly, needlessly  
slow, agonizing death, and Spock’s grief,  
because they got pulled into the sun.  
  
When Nyota took us to see that painting  
Keenser was the one who cried,  
thinking of the things he could have fixed,  
or at least prevented  
if he’d had a little more time on the ship.  
That’s Daedalus.”  
  
  
\--


	30. xxx. klytaimestra

\--  
  
  
“I am the war whore who denounced my husband.  
He came back victorious with glory on his head.  
He had helped conquer the creatures on a colony foreign;  
he was gone seven years without missing my bed.  
I fell in love with another-- and isn’t that  _blasphemous_ ,  
to love another when your husband’s honor is red.  
  
It was the time of the purges, when mNoS was looking  
for anyone, anything that might be suspect.  
My husband the hero I hated as lover,  
so I reported him to our Intelligence Sect.  
It was happenstance that my lover made the arrest.  
They tortured him, beat him, screamed thousands of questions,  
accused him of having plans to defect,  
brought false papers detailing a plot against mNoS,  
said if he didn’t confess, he could only expect  
death, dishonor, his erasure from record.  
But in all this he held true, for my stupid husband  
is loyal to tlhIngan to the point of blindness;  
he was certain that this was a mistake, nothing less.  
  
I watched when they brought the order from mNoS  
for his execution-- he saw with his eyes  
the seal of his dearest Great High Commander;  
it was this betrayal that at last made him cry.  
They shot him right there in that dark bloody cellar.  
They hold trial, jury, judge with that table and chair.  
My husband was not the first, nor the last to  
see pleas for mercy met with indifferent stare.  
  
Say what you will of me: that I am a cruel, cunning woman  
that I should have never so terribly devised  
the end to my husband, father of my children,  
but I will say this to you in reply:  
What do you do upon marrying someone  
whose ideas about the world you have come to despise?  
What do you do when you marry a general  
who may be a hero but  _never_  sympathized  
with his soldiers, his wife, his children, the actual  
people whose lives his warmongering would effect--  
What do you do when you marry an admiral  
whose sole purpose in life is to conquer and wreck  
everything--  _everything_ \-- for the glory of tlhIngan.  
  
Perhaps you will say it was my error to elect  
to marry this tlhIngan, that I should have rejected  
his proposal. All choices are clear in retrospect.  
But I have a weakness-- the same as my husband.  
I love power and revolution. I loved changing systems.  
I loved pure governance, to enact policies to better our mores.  
It is an old story for intentions of revolution  
to decay in the violence and process of time.  
It was a story that I had not lived yet;  
I have lived it now, ideals covered in grime.  
Somewhere along, honor turned to war.  
Somewhere along, the law became broken,  
every act justified by some future ideal  
‘After this battle, Qo’NoS will be peaceful;  
After this traitor’s found, paradise will be healed;  
After the planet’s uprooted to turn out the devils,  
we can return to building our society of steel;  
After one more victory and blood rimmed fear cycle,  
our fates will return and our dreams will be real!’  
  
I stopped believing. He never stopped.  
I became selfish and found vengeance instead  
that made life sweeter than any revolution,  
that gave back some pieces  _honor_  painted red.  
I denounced my husband, sent my own son to prison;  
why shouldn’t I get something from mNoS’ paranoid pride  
after years of watching everything turn to violence?  
my youngest was silent, and for this, she survived.  
But one day at home, my lover was not waiting.  
He disappeared. I stayed up many nights,  
smoking, ignoring the gnawing within me,  
shivering at the thought of black coats and dim lights.  
  
Illusions are costly, I cannot afford them.  
Most days I forget in the details of life.  
The hours portioned out with some easy calling--  
the washing, the reading, the mending, a nap.  
My son was redeemed from his prisoner sentence.  
He and my daughter now hunt me to get back  
some part of their youth, their own lost illusions.  
I was not a good mother, I admit freely to that.  
I’ve fled to this place where the silent are gathered.  
They leave me alone, they despise me for my past.  
But we are all nameless, faceless, unlisted  
equally dead before law, so they do not attack.  
  
There are some days I wonder, why didn’t I leave him?  
Why go through the theater of the entire revenge?  
Why not run away with my devoted lover?  
What in all Qo’NoS was I trying to avenge?  
You might say my illusions, but I know the answer:  
I still had enough feeling to burn up with hate  
I had to kill him. I had to see him broken.  
I had to see that I had broken his fate.  
His face at that seal is the one that stays with me--  
not my lover’s smile, or his ecstasy.  
those are quiet things that he gave to me, gentle.  
I am defined by destruction, hatred, jealousy.  
  
You feel sympathy for me. Your eyes make it clear.  
Let me tell you something that will drive it away.  
My husband was broken by the seal of his lover.  
He and mNoS became honor-sworn in the war’s dark days.  
After that time, they were closer than brothers,  
and that is why I killed him, using his mate.  
  
Let me tell you one more thing to complete my  _love_  story  
I had three children, two daughters, one son.  
My eldest daughter followed the command of her father.  
One battle their unit was outnumbered, outgunned.  
My daughter came back to me in five shattered pieces.  
I learned what happened from a warrior returned,  
who spoke high praise of her valour, courage, brilliance,  
without being able to look me in my face.  
  
I pressed the truth out of him.  
My husband sent her on a suicide mission  
sacrificing her life for mNoS’ embrace.  
She would be four years older than you today, Captain.  
Younger than Mr. Chekhov when she went into space.  
  
Dead. We are caught in the Furies.  
War wreaks vengeance on us all.”  
  
  
\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of torture.


	31. xxxi. joanna

\--  
  
  
“I never talk about my wife and daughter.  
I’m only going to say this once.  
My daughter committed suicide.  
There was nothing after that.  
Jill and I--  
We married young. Twenty-one.  
We were in love. Crazy.  
We had Joanna when I was still in school.  
We had a house, a yard, a cat.  
We lived that way for sixteen years.  
Georgia summers, cool mint tea.  
I never eat peaches.  
Space lets me forget the past.  
My wife was the love of my life,  
but she and I  
couldn’t  
our daughter’s death.  
  
Jo was thirteen.  
Jill took everything. I wanted nothing.  
It’s not about blame but what you can bear.  
  
I left home. Enlisted.  
They almost didn’t take me, psychological risk.  
But I told them it’s either space or the bottle--  
I didn’t much care.  
Made a second life there. Here.  
  
Space makes me angry.  
That’s why I’m alive.  
I don’t think about what went wrong.  
Might have been, could have been.  
I’m a doctor. I’m a doctor.  
My baby girl.  
  
It’s possible to pick up the pieces  
but the rearrangement might have you  
scratching your head. Sometimes  
I wake up, wondering how the hell I did I get here  
wasn’t everything supposed to be different?  
Didn’t I have something else in mind instead?  
My baby girl.  
  
I don’t ever visit Joanna.  
I don’t call Jill. I don’t visit old haunts.  
I haven’t stepped foot in the state of Georgia  
since I left. As far as I care,  
the place is gone.  
We loved our girl, but she somehow hated  
her life, her skin, she couldn’t see--  
eleven is young for self-mutilation.  
We had family and individual therapy,  
enrolled her in a private school with  
teachers, counsellors specialized.  
A course of pills that would leave her  
hyperactive or catatonic,  
but there were precious, glorious days  
when she was happy, radiant.  
For a while, we’d achieved balance.  
It was never easy, but we had months  
when the good days outnumbered the bad.  
  
The experts say  
and I’m an expert  
that puberty  
hormones  
brought on too many changes  
her body didn’t adjust properly  
caused chemical imbalance, led to depression  
anxiety, obsession, you get the idea.  
Mostly I hear  
I failed  
as a parent  
as a doctor  
as a father  
as a person.  
Jill felt the same way.  
We blamed ourselves and each other.  
  
Joanna bled herself  
to death.  
You’ll say that a child doesn’t know what she’s doing--  
she wasn’t a child.  
She knew what she wanted.  
She couldn’t see an end to the battle with her body.  
There’s nothing to say when someone wants death more  
than anything life offers.  
Never mind perspective, age, the neurotransmitters.  
My girl loved to play music  
and win holovid games.  
She giggled when Jill  
would make silly faces  
I’ve only got my bones left.  
Sometimes she would cry and cry  
as Jill and I held her,  
other times there was rage.  
We took her to a Betazoid mind healer  
who couldn’t do anything  
said she must grow into her mind.  
  
This is the last time  
I’ll say something about her.  
Jill knew Jo better.  
She saw deeper inside.  
My daughter  
loved the color yellow  
because she loved lemonade,  
and honeymelons,  
and french fries.”  
  
  
\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Suicide.


	32. xxxii. kore

\--  
  
  
“Have you ever been hungry, with children, Captain Kirk?  
Have you ever been brought down below your knees--  
there is nothing to eat, nothing to earn;  
your partner is conscripted in our great tlhIngan fleet.  
You have not seen her for four years and counting;  
your children are crying for something to eat.  
There are bodies of the dead, the shattered and dying;  
there are bodies but nothing, nothing to eat.  
You have eaten the leather of your shoes and coat  
you have boiled newspaper to grey pulp to relieve  
their cries and the endless, endlessly gnawing--  
you dream only of fields, of orchards, and meat.  
  
You already know the conclusion to this.  
My children were dying, my partner likely dead.  
I kept their mouths clean, their conscience unburdened  
in the blackest time I did. I desecrated the dead.  
  
My children are living, my son sent for training.  
Whatever the army, they give food and a bed.  
My daughter lives with me, we don’t speak of my partner,  
whose name has gone missing from the registry for bread.  
I have no opinion. I have no answer. I have only  
my children with me. I have shoes on my feet;  
I have food every day now. Sometimes my daughter  
will bring something sweet. Sometimes my son  
sends us a package of things we had forgotten  
to dream of: honey, brown spice, and cured salty meat.  
But this thing you offer, this strange yellow fruit,  
is nothing like I have ever once seen.  
The scent of the peel, the taste juice and sour,  
as though to expel any lingering sting.”  
  
“Christine Chapel has said that eating a lemon  
cuts any bitter in half and brings you back to now.”  
“It reminds me of a day my beloved  
asked me to hold her hands in a vow.”  
  
She smiled, lemon juice still wet on her lips  
ate peel and another second remembered,  
still smiling, then licked her stained fingertips.  
“That is my story. It is not uncommon  
for many women with children who lived through that time.  
This fruit is quite strange-- I have not forgotten,  
simply shifted perspective to this thin yellow rind.”  
  
“Keep the seeds. Maybe someday you’ll plant that orchard  
a row of lemon trees for your beloved.”  
“The soil here is poor, I will not expect it  
to grow, flower, fruit, for the branches to spread.”  
“You never know. Spock told me once  
how the same vine, the same seed, can grow in other lands,  
produce different fruit that is none the less brilliant  
for being produced outside native sands.  
Keep it. Perhaps she will return  
one day, one day touch your hand.”  
  
She was silent, closed her eyes, shook her head.  
“Do not look for hope. But I will plant a seed  
and let it be. We will see what happens.  
That’s enough for me.”  
  
  
\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of cannibalism.


	33. xxxiii. leave

\--  
  
  
The talks took place over course of ten nighttimes,  
the time flowing fast with each cadenced story.  
Each night there was risk of their being discovered,  
each night they ignored it in favor of reaching  
a small new beginning founded in compassion,  
respect, admiration, clear eyes without clinging  
to past hurts and wounds, their preconceived notions  
of each other’s cultures, their lives, their suffering.  
  
Neither tlhIngan nor Federation knew what would happen;  
Jim had no grand plan to incite anarchy  
that would lead to more war, pain, destabilization--  
they went there to witness, to listen, to see.  
Whatever came next, who knew?  
  
The eleventh day, they wanted to stay longer,  
but SeplH’ne told them they all must leave.  
Rumors had reached the ears of steel mNoS;  
warbirds were coming to seal any breach.  
“It is likely,” she said, “I will be executed--  
any excuse, real or not, will serve to put me  
into the arms of the gripping, shredding mind-ripper;  
they will discover the truth there easily.”  
  
“You knew this would happen.” “Yes.”  
“You knew, and you let us, you asked them to speak.”  
“There are some things worth dying for, Kirk.  
You have done it.  
They speak of your death with a terrible grief.”  
  
“If you’re going to die, then why not come with us?  
We can give asylum-- there’s got to be a way.  
I won’t leave you here to face death alone  
I want you to see those lemon trees someday.”  
“And what of my children? My son and my daughter?  
If I leave, they will be punished for my crimes to pay.  
On Qo’NoS, there are no outstanding debts, Captain;  
everything must die. Everyone has their day.”  
  
“Then what of the others? Will they be executed also?”  
“They all came to speak, knowing full well  
the likely outcome of breaking silence of hell.  
We are the dead, Spock, of a different degree;  
your people died swiftly. We live knowing we  
in one way or another will die, broken, forgotten  
returning to silence of the bloodless ghostly.”  
  
“What if we talked to mNoS?” “Do not, Nyota Uhura.  
mNoS has no mercy. He will not listen to you.  
He listens to no other. Only death will relieve  
his grip. Do not attempt to kill him,  _Enterprise_.  
If you do, tlhIngan honor demands war between us.”  
  
“You’re asking us to wait.” “Wait for the death of mNoS.  
Then open a channel for our worlds to have peace;  
my tlhIngans here will spread word of your visit,  
so laying the groundwork for possibilities.”  
  
And in the next generation, when tlhIngans joined starships,  
the officer Worf would claim ancestry  
as descending from she who stood, qumwl’ of lhedaS,  
saying before mNoS words that tlhIngans would speak  
when taking their oaths to honor their planet,  
from SeplH’ne, queen who reigned over the dead and the weak.  
  
“I stand here accused of crimes thus committed—  
of speaking to aliens to learn of their ways  
of upholding the honor and rights of our species  
of living with valor and courage in my day.  
I stand here accused of treason and murder—  
for refusing to torture a peace-seeking race  
for refusing to hold trial without justice or honor  
for keeping my principles, knowing when not to obey.  
I stand here accused of living and showing  
what is just, what is right, what is wrong, what we pay  
to live without freedom and honor forgoing.  
I stand here to die with my honor this day.”  
  
  
\--


	34. xxxiv. ship

\--  
  
  
Back on the ship, traveling at warp,  
the mood was subdued—little to say.  
The captain had everyone watch the recordings  
of their interviews on SeplH’ne’s domain,  
also including the  _Enterprise_  telling--  
things must be transparent for them to regain  
the old purpose of fostering peace between species,  
so let everything stand in public record again.  
  
They forwarded everything to Sarek on New Vulcan;  
they entrusted him to keep the records safe,  
to be used for the right time some point in the future.  
As for Starfleet, they debated whether to disclose anything.  
Nyota and Sulu had doubts that the admirals  
would welcome the news and approve of the way  
they’d handled the mission—most still coveted intelligence,  
thinking diplomacy a waste of resources.  
But Carol pointed out that they never outright forbade  
missions fostering relations; she reminded them of Qyklops.  
The admirals would admire their sheer determination,  
because it takes guts to do what they did.  
  
Scotty pointed out they had other recourses;  
they could directly release the interview tapes  
to the media public on all Federation planets,  
to change the perception of tlhIngan warrior face.  
Bones said the stories were personal, entrusted  
to them as a crew, not used to play games  
in interstellar relations, political dramas.  
They needed to remember and respect the honor  
when stories dealt with slavery, incest, cannibalism, hate.  
Chekhov thought it best to edit the story--  
preserve the heart, allow the details to fade.  
Christine thought it had to be everything or nothing;  
to change their lives was to unjustly replace  
ugly things with things everyone wanted  
to hear about others instead of embracing  
both sides fully, no matter how haunting.  
  
Spock deferred to his captain. Cirqce and SeplH’ne  
had addressed Jim, not the rest;  
whatever Jim said would be the last word.  
But Jim wanted everyone’s word to be said.  
“Spock?” He answered  
“Perhaps it would be best to do as SeplH’ne asked—  
wait for a time, an opportune moment  
to introduce, disclose, the tlhIngan’s war-dead.”  
“But sometimes you have to make opportunities.  
I can’t wait around while she’s executed  
for hosting us, giving us safe passage and freely  
speaking, allowing, risking all that she has.”  
“Then perhaps risk releasing a transcripted volume.  
This protects their faces, leaves their voices secret.  
Replace the key names but none of the content;  
have Communications translate to all dialects;  
post this on the nets, allow it to slowly  
spread as an account of the  _Enterprise_  set.  
our name will attract interest and then your opportunity  
will present itself later, created and met.”  
“And what about Starfleet? That would be going  
completely over their heads.”  
“Starfleet must face their own questions of ethics.”  
  
“It’s been a long time, coming. I agree with Spock,” Bones said.  
“I’ll get my people to start on the translations.”  
“Carol and Christine—you know the admiralty.  
Can you compile and contact a list of possible people  
who’d be willing to risk their careers in the fleet?”  
“Done, sir.” “Sulu, take the conn.” “Aye, Captain.” “And Pavel  
I need you to contact your brother.  
He’s Section 31, intelligence officer?”  
“Yes, Keptan.” “See what you can find out about their plans  
How receptive they’d be to encouraging diplomacy.”  
“Immediately, Keptan.” “Scotty, if Fleet calls, keep them distracted.”  
“Can do, Jim.” “And Jim, where the hell will you be?”  
“Talking to Spock. Taking care of some business.  
  
"Everyone has their orders. Our next mission isn’t for  
72 hours, so everyone rest, regroup, perform admirably.”  
Bones snorted. “Don’t forget you’re due for a physical!”  
“Got it. Spock. You’re with me.”  
  
  
\--


	35. xxxv. live

\--  
  
  
“After two months on Earth  
you went to New Vulcan.  
Why?”  
“I questioned whether  
I desired to stay,  
Jim.”  
  
Silence.  
  
“Starfleet no longer  
upheld the values  
I hold sacred.  
To order us to  
hunt individuals  
without trial or listening  
to their crimes and fears.  
To command us to  
launch photon torpedoes  
commit an act of war  
that would be without peer.  
To demote you from  
captain of  _Enterprise_  
to maintain face  
and righteous veneer.  
To coerce another  
person on waking  
to build weapons,  
threatening those they hold dear.  
To execute us  
for following orders,  
then write off the deaths  
as punishing mutineers.  
To refuse to give  
us any assistance  
while we were fighting  
within Earth’s orbital sphere.  
To support the orders  
to promote an admiral  
who made Starfleet an army  
to personally commandeer.  
To banish us, hoping,  
on our five year mission,  
we would come back broken,  
perhaps disappear.  
I never agreed.  
When I enlisted in Starfleet,  
I did not give them the right  
to compromise me.  
My service is bound  
to my ethical standards.  
Starfleet broke them  
repeatedly.  
Vulcan principles are  
the center of Starfleet.  
Our tradition of spaceflight  
is older than Earth’s.  
The Prime Directive,  
exploration, IDIC, First Contact,  
to me are my values--  
to me they have worth.  
Else you will have those  
who would crush other life forms,  
bent on colonizing  
every galaxy.  
Else you will have those  
who think war their birthright,  
because they happen to have  
some technology.  
Else you will have  
a cold man like Marcus  
starting a war  
preemptively.  
For this, I left.  
I will not live  
to do what is wrong.  
It may be  
I cannot do what is right.  
But I will not purposely seek  
to do what is wrong.  
No one has the right  
to ask that of anyone.”  
  
Silence.  
  
“Why did you come back?”  
  
Quiet.  
  
“You left me a holo  
asking me to return.  
You detailed our mission,  
our command team.  
You said you would like  
to see me in person  
before the ceremony  
rechristening.  
I had not decided  
whether to stay  
until you spoke  
your words of grief.”  
  
Silence.  
  
“Captain?”  
  
Blue eyes.  
  
“They all told me  
they’d only come back  
to go on this mission  
if you were there, too.  
Nyota, Scotty, Chekhov, Sulu--  
half the command team  
and a third of the crew.  
I think they saw  
who I am under orders,  
how quickly I put  
their lives on the line.  
I think they saw  
how you always tell me  
when you disagree,  
how often you’re right.”  
  
Silence.  
  
“When I called, I was bluffing.  
I thought I would lose you.  
I thought I’d lose everything,  
even after I’d died.  
I put us in  
that nightmare without thinking--  
I made a mistake,  
I paid with my life.  
If I lost you and the ship,  
twice within living,  
I don’t know what I’d do.  
That’s why I tried  
to say something,  
anything,  
worth five years of living  
with me in the chair  
and you by my side.”  
  
Silence.  
  
“Jim  
I could forgive Starfleet many things.  
Even through the ordeal  
I might have returned.  
But  
To cost the lifeblood  
of one I hold precious--  
I could not forgive.  
I could not return.  
Jim  
I cannot live to witness  
your hands falling limp,  
your eyes once again.  
We have witnessed death,  
we have seen destruction.  
My mother disappeared  
before my own eyes  
but Jim--  
to witness your dying moment  
I could not endure  
not one more time.  
The answer you presented  
asked me to live  
asked me to come back  
despite grief inside.  
The message you spoke  
asked us to try  
to restore our wonder  
to rebuild, revive.  
That is the only  
reason I came back  
the reason I trust you  
the reason I cried.”  
  
Silence.  
  
“Bones told me  
when you were in the volcano  
if I were there  
you would let me die.  
Nyota told me  
how you went after Khan  
with intent to kill--  
pay a life with a life.”  
“At one point  
I attacked Khan psionically.  
Brought forward memories  
he never wanted to have  
never wanted replayed  
I cannot hate him.  
I would not wish to remember  
his blood-ridden past.”  
“I know you put him to sleep again  
that you got his blood with his consent  
that you put him back in space again  
somewhere hidden, alive.  
The Admiralty was furious  
they wanted at least to harvest the blood  
as a miracle serum to save lives.  
By then you’d gone to Vulcan.”  
  
“We made a trade  
we’d made before  
this time on fair terms  
a life for a rest  
his blood for your sleep  
we were both tired of death.”  
  
Quiet.  
  
“Why did you leave me.  
I needed you then.  
You don’t know how  
I felt my heart stop  
when Nyota said  
you’d left.”  
  
“Captain.”  
“My name, Spock.”  
Soft.  
  
“Jim.  
I could not.  
The repeated fractures.  
The ubiquitous death.  
I could not.  
I touched the bottom.  
I found in myself  
a bleak prospect  
I found the conviction  
friendships are not born  
in conditions of trouble  
love is not born  
in conditions of need.  
There are stories  
littering life and literature  
where difficult conditions  
form enduring bonds  
but I found their conditions  
not difficult enough.  
If tragedy and need  
bring people together  
then the need was not extreme  
the tragedy not great.  
Jim, I fractured.  
I faced on New Vulcan  
immersed in our loss  
questioning our fate  
tragedy so deep and sharp  
it can never be shared  
with friends.  
I did not know  
if I wanted to see  
anyone again.  
I have lost my planet  
my people  
myself  
you  
I could not lose  
my ethics  
It was all I had left.  
It was all I had left.”  
  
“You had me, Spock.”  
  
“I did not have you.  
I had the horror of your death  
the press of my fingers  
against a wall.”  
  
“You ran away  
when I needed you.”  
  
“Jim.  
I had nothing left.”  
  
“Spock  
I had nothing too.  
I needed you  
and you left.”  
  
“Jim  
what do you desire me to say?  
That your love would sustain me  
even through your death?”  
  
“I  _didn’t die_. I am  _alive_.  
You’re using my death as  
another excuse.”  
  
“Did you expect me to be  
so relieved by that fact  
that I could ignore  
everything else?  
Does life wipe away  
the memory of  
what I thought occurred?  
Do your eyes wipe away  
the knowledge of death  
the visceral, terrible  
immovable certainty  
of living through death?  
Jim. I had  _nothing_.  
Nothing left to give  
incapable to receive  
inadequate to live.”  
  
Soft.  
  
“I am here now.  
Is that not enough?  
T’hy’la  
We are here now  
speaking  
is this not enough?”  
  
Hands touching hands.  
  
“Don’t leave again.  
Don’t ever leave again.  
Don’t ever fucking say  
you don’t want to see  
us again.  
I came back from death  
to the shock of living.”  
“I returned from nothing  
because you asked.”  
  
Breathing.  
  
“Spock.”  
“Jim-- beloved.”  
“Come with me to bed.  
We’ve said enough.”  
“Jim.”  
“Come with me.  
You’ve known how I feel  
for the longest time.”  
  
Dark eyes.  
  
“Please, come.  
I’m asking.  
I’m asking again.”  
  
Quiet.  
  
“I am here, Jim.”  
Breathe.  
“I am here.”  
  
And so  
worlds align.  
  
  
\--


	36. xxxvi. die

\--  
  
  
what can you say when love lays you bare  
what do you say when you die in the night  
to be reborn in his arms come morning  
what do you find in that soft aural light  
  
what do you say when he touches you softly  
hands rev'rent, eyes seeking an answer to might  
to bring you undone with unholy devotion  
like whisp'ring a prayer to the gods of the fight  
  
'let the fates grant reprieve, let the furies surrender  
this is my love, the love of my life  
he holds my grief, my sins, my undoing  
he holds my hands to his heart, my heart in his side'  
  
death will hold sway and wars will keep churning  
life eats itself to continue the strife  
this is the cycle, this is the burning  
of one long day, and one long night  
  
but oh-- in this morning when you sweetly surrender  
your heart to his hands and your life to time  
you accept your limits without any sorrow  
you accept your fate and your death is sublime  
  
what can you say when love lays you bare  
what do you do when you discover that night  
the barren scorched earth held seeds of lemons  
the trees are silver in the dark morning light  
  
what can you say when you simply surrender  
to the passage of time, the flight of your life  
you accept your limits without any sorrow  
you accept this love, death clearly in sight  
  
what can you say when love lays you bare  
what can you say when his face reignites  
the embers you thought were long ago broken  
what do you pray to his heart that night  
  
everything returns to nothing.  
the prayers you pray you will pay with your life.  
words always return to sounds unspoken  
dissolved in air, space-time, time-flight.  
  
nothing. silence. death. coldworld.  
eternity graspless. death marks all lives  
but still you say, words uttered softly  
before this night world dissolves to daylight  
  
for this is all you know in this morning moment  
the love of your life has laid body bare  
and he loves you facing grief with his heartlife  
so you both die, to live right here  
  
  
\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Clip](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IcUnFuVApAg)


	37. xxxvii. sirens

\--  
  
  
The tenth mission in their exploration  
they came upon a nebula  
which produced sound of such frequencies  
on subspace radio like a song  
for five nights, five days they scanned, recorded  
the dark dusty cloud that slowly moved  
particles closer, farther, gathering  
dissolving, emitting, and strangely could not prove  
if this cloud and song was the end of a star  
the distinct remnant of supernova  
or beginning of a new solar system  
the dust to collapse, form a young cluster  
as the ship flew around to take detailed readings  
the crew all noticed the breadth and the size  
their sensors detected it was not one cloud  
but like the Eagle Nebula had regions comprised  
of dust newly amassed, tall like a pillar  
and dust newly dead, shot through the core  
and hidden within the dust there was gathered  
protostars spinning, gaining mass, accounting for  
the sweet notes of the song, light like soprano  
the low tones of the clouds, dark like a bass  
the measured hum of their warp core, steady like an alto  
against the deep and pure silence of black outer space  
and in the middle was singing, high as their heartbeats  
the thread of a tenor, the notes faint and trace  
perhaps even imagined, for space has no sound which  
is organized point, counterpoint, form, consonance  
still this sound filled their system, five days and five nights  
they listened while sleeping, eating, recovering  
what the sound gave to each, who knows that answer  
but the sound lighted through them like a mythical thing  
at the end of five nights, they proceeded onward  
their sense of space changed facing clouds of lightyears  
the captain, he named it the Siren Nebula  
and they flew away  
free of grief  
free of fear.  
  
  
\--


	38. xxxviii. monsters

\--  
  
  
They came upon  
another strange region  
two stellar objects  
impossibly close  
a pulsar which  
emits cosmic radiation  
that would likely kill  
one sixth of the boat  
and beside it  
almost overlapping  
a black hole which  
disappeared, reappeared  
between them  
like the dust rings of Saturn  
a river of rock  
churning, grinding to shear  
The wisest thing  
would be flying around it  
the dangers were great  
the objects too close  
but the  _Enterprise_  crew  
would have none of it  
enchanted by  
this celestial host  
Such a monstrous pulsar!  
huge and consistent  
regular in its beam  
of deadly cosmic rays  
Such a strange black hole!  
that existed, then didn’t  
sucking up space-time  
then spitting out again  
The dust in between  
sometimes orbited Skylla  
only to be swallowed  
when Charybdis arrived  
then Charybdis threw up  
in a roaring explosion  
the dust and gas  
it had digested inside  
no one had ever  
seen anything like it  
they watched from afar  
not believing their eyes  
but sensors they showed  
this truly existed  
the question was  
do they dare venture in?  
do they risk life and crew  
ship, science, and mission  
for one moment  
facing these stellar twins?  
Logic said no  
their duty was only  
observe as far as  
safe practice allowed  
Spirit said yes  
their mission had lately  
been sorrow, forgetting  
the thrill of profound  
Word strangely agreed  
with Spirit’s assessment  
because to be living  
one must feel alive  
Heart pointed out  
that living, thrill seeking  
are two different things  
to live is to strive  
Wind thought their mission  
was exploration and wonder  
was breaking limits and seeking  
new thresholds in tests  
Warp said they too often  
broke ship and each other  
pushing beyond physics  
in that process  
Rose and Thorn disagreed  
Rose thought of potential  
no one had ever touched matter  
that had touched a black hole  
Thorn thought of the limits  
of absolutes, of shattered  
memories ejecting core  
and ship punched through with toll  
Kolokol voiced that he  
would like to explore them  
but with this kind of sand pressure  
it was suicide to try  
then Ethics, with soft voice  
clear conscience and feeling  
said it was their duty  
to explore and to fly  
For ethics not only  
provides rules and safe borders  
but finds the  _right_  boundaries  
to allow every life  
to flourish, prosper, and multiply fully  
without inflicting  
such a terrible cost  
minimizing any  
pain and suffering  
that beings will pay  
in the process of loss  
It was risky and dangerous  
but with proper precautions  
with protocols in place  
and staff fully briefed  
the  _Enterprise_  could manage  
to take close range readings  
and witness the monsters  
without causing grief  
it would cost careful timing  
some preparation and planning  
nothing so reckless  
as blind flying the breach  
but with commitment and daring  
to exploration and science  
they could discover  
recover, find wonder, and reach.  
The next seven days  
they committed their sensors  
to making huge stellar maps  
and timing the two stars  
they discovered the period  
of cosmic radiation  
and found the frequency  
of the chasm’s occurrence  
they sent probes and robots  
to explore the dust region  
one of their probes  
was swallowed in space  
when it reappeared  
five hundred years later  
it contained readings  
of the time below place  
they rigged up a shuttle  
as remote controlled leader  
which successfully navigated  
their test run through sand  
all of this data  
would have been enough to  
secure their place  
in fame’s grasping hand  
but they weren’t after fame  
and they weren’t after glory  
they were searching for something  
inside themselves  
when the captain ordered  
a flight between monsters  
they felt prepared  
they felt overwhelmed  
no one had ever  
done what they were doing  
no one had seen  
what they would see  
no person alive  
had ever encountered  
such impersonal forces  
in such proximity  
so they flew  
they succeeded  
it was not smooth sailing  
like climbing  
a volcano  
at midnight  
with roaring thunderstorm  
there were some close calls  
between Skylla  
Charybdis  
the forces rip pulling  
their ship  
helm to stern  
but there were no deaths  
no injuries  
no major losses  
just laughter to have  
safely soundly emerged  
the few ship damages  
were repaired in short order  
the  _Enterprise_  flew  
away  
leaving  
in ether  
the monsters’ wide spectrums  
indescribable, obscene  
the kind that left mortals  
gasping prayers to vespers  
the kind made life  
taste of lemon citrine.  
Heart, Word, Warp, Ethics,  
Spirit, Rose, Thorn, Wind  
and Kolokol  
witnessed  
flew  
to their fates unforeseen.  
  
  
\--


	39. xxxix. calves

\--  
  
  
Their twelfth mission found them facing  
cows and bulls once again  
the cows were the color  
of deep copper and gold grain  
their coats reflecting the fierce sun  
like a god’s chosen claim  
their eyes were deep red like  
the sun setting at dusk  
their horns were like amber  
their hooves colored rust  
in the herd stood one young calf  
newly born, golden white  
lowing at his prone mother  
who was dead from her plight  
Christine jumped into action  
ordered the away team to find  
a dead calf with live mother  
so a switch might be designed  
and indeed, Darwin found one  
a cow bronze and black  
who was licking her dead young  
trying to rouse it back  
Christine, Darwin, Madeleine  
brought the white calf to the cow  
covered it in the fluids  
of the dead infant’s brow  
the cow smelled and tasted  
this odd colored babe  
but slowly accepted the child  
as her own and soon laved  
him over and over  
with her great muscled tongue  
allowed him to drink milk  
and forgot the dead one.  
They did not take it upon them  
to seek out more dead calves  
but they did what they could  
in the situations they had.  
They all understood  
that this is the harsh tide  
the way evolution  
keeps all species alive  
but it did not stand to reason  
not to do what they could  
if they found they could help  
if they found something good  
would it make big a difference  
one life of one calf?  
in the wide scheme of things  
nothing special in that  
but in the wide scheme of things  
everything became small  
and in the wide scheme of things  
life was nothing at all  
so fuck the wide scheme of things  
they would do what they could  
if they found they could help  
if they found something good.  
  
  
\--


	40. xl. hunger

\--  
  
  
After grief, there is hunger  
an unseen marvel that  
you can love strange new places  
you can laugh without wrack  
you can crave foods you have never  
thought were flavors or dishes  
you can see things without  
aching bitter hard wishes  
so the  _Enterprise_  found  
itself docked at a world  
with a culture vivacious  
like a treasure, a pearl  
whose people embraced them  
and shared all their sights  
of dance, music, sculpture  
cuisine, spirits, vice  
vices like skiing  
a little too fast  
hang gliding above  
a high mountain tract  
vices like lazing  
to read all the stacked  
books or like watching  
the rain light diffract  
vices like swimming  
in freshwater lakes  
then make love all night  
and again the next day  
the vice of concerting  
of working with clay  
of drinking good liquor  
of taking a break  
from the hard work their labors  
demanded and tolled  
from their determined searching  
to find something, keep hold  
of each other, of purpose  
to not break apart  
to keep close together  
to preserve their dark heart  
grief might be their center  
where everything starts  
but life is their extra  
that meaning imparts  
so they woke, found their hunger  
for good food and good art  
let the crises and duties  
on this day rest, depart.  
Perhaps not a mission  
but shore leave instead  
that afforded them luxury  
they’d forgotten and shed  
restored to them now  
in this moment right when  
their hunger awakened:  
let the eating begin.  
Sulu enjoyed their  
wakeboarding and sushi  
he ate ramen noodles  
and drank hot plum sake.  
Chekhov he rode  
the train for three days  
through snow plain like Sibir  
recalling past childhood days.  
Scotty and Keenser  
hit the pubs, sampled pies  
got in a barfight  
comparing warp engine size.  
Christine and Carol  
treated themselves to a spa  
with hot rocks, massages  
cold drinks with green straws.  
Madeleine wandered through  
the bazaars of the streets  
buying too many things  
for surprisingly cheap.  
0718 and Darwin  
rented sailboat and launched  
themselves to the ocean  
and tested their luck.  
Bones picked an old city  
and found the stone graves  
inscribed with ink paper  
and pine needles shaved.  
Nyota went to rainforest  
with a guide to see birds  
she caught glimpses of monkeys  
and leopards overheard.  
Spock and Jim, they found  
a house near a park  
they walked hand in hand  
every day before dark.  
When they all came back  
they were ready to work  
stronger as a team  
their confidence in Kirk  
and in each other  
in themselves  
and somehow the world  
that things might get shitty  
and things might fall apart  
heartlife might be broken  
without a way to restart  
but that didn’t matter  
because now is right now  
they were hungry to be  
and life gave them chow.  
  
  
\--


	41. xli. odysseus

\--  
  
  
That night before warping  
Jim and Spock shared a dream  
of two stone cold black dragons  
facing them breathing steam  
between dragons were waters  
of pulverized Earth  
and in black maw of one dragon  
blood of Vulcan’s red dirt  
the dragons transformed  
to dread Skylla, Charybdis  
the pulsar rays deadly  
the black hole infinite  
then three others emerged  
Skylla faced as Khan-Marcus  
Nero’s grief ravaged hate  
as the face of Charybdis  
they were trapped in the waters  
the screaming war wind upon them  
crewmen thrown from the vessel  
the hull wrecked, helm broken  
thunder and space lightning  
false torpedoes and fire  
volcanoes, brimstone and ash  
leapt high as their pyre  
when the war wind stopped blowing  
grief wind rose as dread spirit  
carrying the broken ship  
with Kirk, Spock, crew in it  
back to the monsters  
as Nero-black-hole roared  
and Khan-Marcus the hydra  
malevolently gored  
the remains of the  _Enterprise_  
and Charybdis then swallowed  
and they were all falling  
when suddenly, the hollow  
hand of the ancients  
Odysseus, red bearded  
tired, shattered and wasted  
from hunger, war, fear, dread  
caught Jim’s hand, who held Spock  
who grasped lemon tree’s branches  
they held on there until  
the monsters vomited  
Odysseus jumped onto  
the broken mast-keel  
Jim and Spock found the  _Enterprise_  
renewed but unhealed  
they extended hand to the hero  
who looked so alone  
without his fine warriors  
whose war-souls were thrown  
to the high house of Hades  
for following this one man  
who inspired great epics  
as he sought his homeland  
Odysseus grimly accepted  
and they set out to sea  
so they bypassed the years  
restored to Penelope  
her beloved lost husband  
seven years early.  
Thirteen years is a lifetime  
ten years for a war  
three years caught in hubris  
that faded as each oar  
of his ship became empty  
unmanned, underscored.  
Jim and Spock, upon waking  
remembered the taste of the dream  
remembered smell of the lemons  
above screaming sea  
remembered dragons and monsters  
but forgot much the rest  
content to find hands  
entwined, wrist to wrist.  
  
  
\--


	42. xlii. the man trap

\--  
  
  
The last mission I tell is much like the first  
mission recounted in another universe  
they put the ship into orbit around planet M-113  
to check on the health of the archeological team  
there was Dr. Kratir of Andoran descent  
and Dr. Nan-Chi whose life work had lent  
startling insights on the decay of old species  
the team studied extinction of advanced pre-warp beings  
when the away team beamed down, the dig was a-flurry  
someone had discovered a something, that could be  
the last remains of this remarkable species  
Jim ordered assistance; Sulu led a team  
to help excavation, while Chekhov stayed to beam  
supplies and extra medical personnel  
Bones and Christine brought equipment to help  
Uhura coordinated, took the conn, held the chaos  
that characterizes a discovery’s seance  
Scotty and Keenser helped her keep ship controls  
Carol and Darwin stood with Giotto on patrol  
0718 stayed with Sulu and used his compass head  
to guide them through tunnels, for the first time he led  
Drs. Kratir and Nan-Chi couldn’t contain their excitement  
these tunnels glowed programs and would bring such enlightenment  
on questions about growth, damage, sustainability  
between tech development, resources, and toxicity  
each extinct advanced species had shown signs of decay  
but what led to extinction? no one cause could claim  
as definitive factor that put ambitions to rest  
from expanding, exploring, to survival at best  
Spock stayed on the surface and talked to the archeological team  
discussed research while Bones examined everyone, everything  
it was then that Bones noticed sharp nutritive deficiencies  
in everyone’s blood-- nothing serious, but worrying  
Christine administered booster shots and a dose  
of lime juice to keep scurvy off their list to diagnose  
“Spock!” Jim shouted, “You’ve got to see this to believe--”  
Spock ran to his captain as the team re-emerged  
with the first artifacts, the strange fruits of their search  
over the next 72 hours everyone worked in shifts  
to clean, classify, record, repair, rescue, refit  
pre-warp technology which they found ran on salt  
using ion cascades as the power default  
can you imagine the thrill? can you imagine the start-  
ling realization that they could connect to a part  
of this dead, disappeared people through the machines left behind  
programmed in language unknown for purposes undefined?  
The captain asked for Uhura, Keenser, Chekhov, and Scotty  
to lend their expertise in this venture enthralling  
Dr. Nan-Chi and Madeleine decoded auxiliary systems  
Dr. Kratir and Sulu ventured deeper in distance  
until they came to a wall that offered resistance  
0718 did deep tricorder scans and to his disbelief  
there were life signs-- a person  
breathing shallow, core temp frozen, like a cryotube closed  
the last of her species in frozen repose.  
Sulu relayed coordinates, breathless, and Chekhov transported  
Bones, Chapel, and Carol place cryotube in a biobed  
while Kratir and Nan-Chi faced a question of conscience  
do they attempt to revive her for the sake of their knowledge?  
It would be, no doubt, a great opportunity  
for the last person to speak, lend insight to theory  
but a life is a life, with its pleasures and pains  
what if she did not know that she alone remained  
could they ask anyone to face that kind of death  
for one day she must die, and all her kind with it  
they found they could not, out of respect for the ghosts  
they had faced in the years on their past mission posts  
but on the other side of this death argument  
was the one about life-- was it life then to spend  
the rest of her time until the cryotube failed  
a silent specimen of study, her cold sleep now a jail?  
would not anyone take a chance to see life  
after sleeping the centuries, hoping for better times?  
they could never predict her reactions and thoughts  
if she chose to sleep more, they’d respect that for aught  
if she wanted to live, they’d provide life support  
and respect what she wanted, even their mission abort  
so they decided to chance it, but before that, they needed  
a way to communicate so her desires could be heeded  
Spock touched the tube and felt the thrum of old dreams  
withdrew to his quarters to prepare his mind for extremes  
the rest of the team stayed on task to decode  
the technology and her nutritional nodes.  
When time came she unfroze, her tentacles clung to Spock  
she gasped for salt water and body went in shock  
Spock began screaming, “the sea, the sea, the sea--  
It’s gone now, it’s covered with nothing, deceased!”  
Bones sprang into action:  
“Get her into a tank of water with epsom salt  
monitor her ion intakes and add whatever we’ve got!  
We missed the goddamned obvious-- the ion cascades!  
This planet was under a huge ocean unmade  
find the cause why it’s gone and you’ll find why they decayed.”  
Scotty worked on his instincts, submerged machines in salt water  
they whirred to new life, emitted light in soft colors  
Nyota looked at her and her colors changing on each side  
she theorized their language was in the colors applied  
Spock breathed deep and opened his eyes in wide shock  
“What is this? Where am I? What is this  _walk_  and  _talk_?  
I can see in two bodies: one in water, one in dry  
and another mind with me who connects us in psi.”  
Jim, Kratir, and Nan-Chi stood and witnessed in silence  
Jim stepped forward and reached for Spock’s hand, his eyes brilliant.  
“I am James T. Kirk, the mind with you is Spock  
will you tell us your name? would you be willing to talk  
to us of your people for you’re the last of your kind  
we believe they died when your oceans declined.”  
“He lets me borrow his body. He sees in my mind  
he feels my great sorrow-- his is as deep as mine.  
He says I can trust you for you too have once died  
and spoken to dead peoples desiring to understand life.”  
And while speaking, her body changed colors in bursts  
Nyota recorded to understand her words  
while Christine continually added a mixture of salts  
this life form desperately needed after years in her vault  
Meanwhile Bones and Scotty conferred with the other teams  
to warn them that the machines leached their body, blood clean  
of ions to feebly power their work  
which explained the deficiencies Bones discovered at the first.  
Carol and Chekhov were the first to rewire  
a machine in the water it opened and fired  
a glowing model of their undersea city  
which spanned a huge circle of coral-basalt buildings.  
Sulu stayed planetside, ordering halt to the dig  
until he heard back from the  _Enterprise_  bridge  
while Keenser tinkered to find a way to revive  
the remains of the city.  
He theorized that this coral is a hive  
a spectrum of species building calcium nests.  
Perhaps under the shells was something that possessed  
faint life signs, for if something was taking ions in blood  
that implied a need for food in the bud.  
“We were destroyed in our oceans in the course of the planet’s cycle  
but we also contributed to our own early demise  
our machines used sea ions and produced heat in excess  
this didn’t matter at first, but with time it accumulated  
the temperature of the waters rose, other species began dying  
we didn’t think much of it, believing progress answers all things  
and perhaps we would have found a solution but it happened  
that under our planet’s crust volcanic activity increased  
heating the waters until finally catastrophe  
changed our oceans to steam, killing huge swaths of people  
and the remnant were ill, living in boiling waters  
barely surviving each day.  
The volcanoes were ceaseless for a few thousand years.  
In that process everything dried up, land appeared  
I was not supposed to survive; we did not know if the technology  
would work but either way we had to take a chance to see.  
We were once numberless, the rulers of our seas  
now I am only one after thousands of years sleeping.”  
Then after struggling to speak, she abruptly expired  
her colors went blanks and she ceased to respire  
some thousands years sleeping, then waking in shock  
was too much to handle for her internal clock  
Spock slumped next to her, their psi points still connected  
for a moment he followed her death, then rejected  
that path for faint brightness of life like light dawn  
reemerged surrounded by his friends, every one  
and one who was as precious as the blood in his heart  
to stand with him in life and stand with him in dark  
They didn’t say much, but all eyes expressed relief  
they quietly went on to work on the city reef.  
Keenser’s coral project didn’t give any success  
Sulu, Kratir, Nan-Chi buried her in the desert  
Bones, Chapel and Carol made sure archeological crew  
had plenty of salt and med supplies too  
Scotty and Uhura wrapped up research committees  
wished the scientists good luck, beamed up to resume duties  
Chekhov was busy coordinating transporter times  
but before they all warped out, they received one last message:  
a request to come down and see this ineffable sight.  
It was raining on planet  
for the first time in years  
in the rain, there was lowing  
and somehow there appeared  
migrating to new pasture  
a huge buffalo herd  
amidst the machines glowing  
licking the salt coral stored  
they kept moving  
they didn’t stay at  
the salt lick overnight  
the sound  
and the  _smell_  were  
an incredible sight  
perhaps several  
millenia past  
cephalopods covered this world  
but today it was bison  
evolution uncurls.  
  
  
\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The Man Trap](http://www.startrek.com/watch_episode/r4FoPLplOIV6)


	43. xliii. kalypso

\--  
  
  
The years they passed  
on the five year space mission  
which turned out to be seven  
due to time traveling  
The  _Enterprise_  she  
discovered new systems  
mapped out new phenomena  
mysteries unraveling  
the crew worked hard  
they played hard  
they mourned and they grieved  
for lost crew, for those who  
in space were buried  
By all counts the mission  
was a stellar success  
through the years  
they grew closer  
to the point they expressed  
each other’s sentences  
anticipated plans  
could foresee the stresses  
and provide support then  
but this is not the reason  
they are well known to us  
the fame of the  _Enterprise_  
comes from tlhIngan heart-trust.  
Seven years after risking  
their trip to the dead  
seven years after sharing  
the stories unsaid  
seven years after Cirqce  
planted seed of a plan  
seven years after SeplH’ne  
was executed  
the ship was contacted  
by Kalyqo, who led  
the new tlhIngan wo’  
for mNoS was dead.  
They went  
with great caution  
with hope  
and with gifts  
with a thousand new stories  
on the tip of their lips  
they went  
with experience  
hard won  
equipped  
to manage all situations  
be it trap  
or true openness  
The crew Kalyqo met  
were the same as the stories  
and yet totally different  
somehow  _more_  than the stories  
their grief had defined them  
made them listen, understand  
that no matter how life spins  
we all die in the end  
but the years gave them extra  
time passed to extend  
another truth: we are living  
and in life, there are friends;  
there are lovers and wonders  
cows, marvels and ghosts  
the moment of standing  
on a yellow sea coast  
to cry or to laugh  
that you are alive  
that the waters are old  
that one day you will die.  
Somehow they became  
more than sum of their griefs  
more than sum of their seeing  
a lot of strange things  
more than sum of their species  
more than sum of their parts  
less than sum of all beings  
less than sum of time’s start  
more or less  
exactly who  
they had potential to be  
seven years  
changed their lives  
all this Kalyqo could see.  
Before words could be spoken  
before formalities could freeze  
Kalyqo presented  
five small lemon trees  
planted by SeplH’ne  
seven years ago  
on tlhIngan soil  
for her lover  
the new voDleH  
this same Kalyqo.  
Captain Kirk understood  
immediately  
Commander Spock stepped forward  
held ta’al  
“I grieve with thee.”  
Kalyqo looked up  
said in clear voice ringing  
“You once told my lover  
you came to start again  
to build new beginnings  
to find common ground to stand.  
I now say your words  
as a vow back to you:  
if death must be that common ground  
I will tread softly too.”  
Jim replied  
“In the name of she who lived and guarded  
every life and planted lemon trees  
let things said here have proper weight  
and face each other openly.”  
And so began the first meeting  
between Federation and tlhIngan kind  
there was a feast and challenges  
to games of wrestling, running, archery, and mind  
the Enterprise and Qo’NoS both put forth  
their best and brightest in spirit of good sport  
thus easing tensions and proving to both worlds  
that life thrives in diversity unfurled.  
The greatest sight of all to them was when  
Kalyqo brought the bow of SeplH’ne  
her love had won her heart and soul the night  
SeplH’ne strung bow, and shot the arrow clean  
through head of twelve axes aligned in perfect row  
and now Kalyqo strung bow for all to see  
shot arrow through twenty axeheads for each  
year she lost at war, imprisoned, sea.  
The meeting brought no signings of treaties  
they had no negotiations about space  
they didn’t speak of war, technology  
that hard work would come after, first they found  
a point of commonality, meeting place  
to stand beside each other without fear.  
This is why we remember the  _Enterprise_  
they risked their all on small, evaporating chance  
to realize a peace between peoples  
to end cold war and constant armament  
they spoke and listened, and thlIngan saw honor  
within their souls, their beings burning bright  
now we have peace, and friendship there besides  
the freedom to explore our own starlight.  
After the feasts, the games, the ceremony  
the stories flowed like wine  
and so we sing.  
  
  
\--


	44. xliv. perestroika

\--  
  
  
“I know you desire to ask me how I find  
myself as voDelH when SeplH’ne was killed  
and purges often swept our world to take  
anyone with associations to  
anyone imprisoned, heretical, exiled.  
She told you of our children, my conscription  
my disappearance from the records of our war.  
She took huge risk in her self-mandated commission  
in speaking, spreading wide the word of your  
offer and the possibilities in store.  
Our son was tortured, he jumped out of window down  
his back was broken, he cannot walk but he  
retains his mind, his brilliance and he works  
to restore the honor of tlhIngans with disability  
Our daughter was sent to Qolyma’s prison camp  
for five years, two years ago she was restored to me  
she lost two fingers, was blinded in one eye  
today she studies to become our emissary  
she remembered most Nyota Uhura’s song  
and now desires to speak all manner of tongue.  
I rule because, though politics abound  
Qo’Nos has suffered much and we must unfreeze  
the Thaw will come and with it come reforms  
the question is, which reformations meet  
the needs of tlhIngan, when honor’s sword is rust  
our laws and justice have lost all their meaning  
our people yearn for greatness and to thrive  
but how to build a path that will succeed?  
I rule because my wife was prominent  
in representing another path for us  
I rule because my reputation is  
solidified in twenty years of war service  
Ten years I spent on ships within our fleet  
based on Qo’NoS, living with SeplH’ne  
was there when Nero destroyed our every warbird  
seven years I spent imprisoned, forced to fight  
to crush rebellions in our colonies  
returned three years too late to find my love  
had died, my children scattered like debris.  
mNoS died two years ago by stroke  
since then things have been slowly wakening  
my power was not secure right then so I  
waited before risking contacting  
to speak to you who cost my love her life  
for cause she’d long gave up on to hope  
to speak to you who brought lemons and seeds--  
do you know how widely spans the scope  
of your interference of ten long nights, short days  
imparted to us five years ago?  
I will not deceive, our planet is in chaos  
but I have ideas, very simple but not easy  
I wish to turn our industry from war  
and cultivate more manufacturing  
I won’t set up a personality cult  
I’ll try to dismantle some mNoS’ sayings  
that he was seven parts right and three parts wrong  
so banish him as relic of past things  
I’ll realign our idea of good and bad  
away from lines of warrior class to accept all  
as making necessary contribution to  
society, not matter background, mother, Hol  
we’ve already begun to take down the labor camps  
and deal publicly with legacy of that  
silence will poison, but speech is too early  
for those gripped in grief, two summers need combat  
so that is why I asked you here today.  
Some tlhIngans say, I am doing too much  
destroying structure that they think necessary  
we were so long supported by his rule  
that some tlhIngans find a strange security  
in mNoS absolute totalitarian arbitrary tyranny.  
I do believe the future will be hard  
that after Thaw comes anger, rebelling  
distrust in anything I say or try to do  
long bread lines, no food in this shock therapy  
You’ll offer help, because that is what you do  
but this is deeper than economy  
you cannot help us reconcile, we must  
do it ourselves, though you might long to free  
us from more long years of hardship.  
If you will help, instead of aid, I ask for joint venturing.  
To build a space station in Neutral Zone  
of our joint efforts, staffed by tlhIngan and StarFleet  
with aim to foster an alliance  
and share our scientific discoveries  
Let this be broadcast on our worlds as hope  
and offer glimpse of our capability  
and offer alternative pathways for  
tlhIngan youth who wallow in stagnated unease  
many will still choose to serve Qo’NoS  
but some may choose to work within your Fleet  
after angered grief, you must find fuel to live  
let this dream fuel their future reveries.  
Nyota Uhura, we ask for you to be  
HoD tengchaH, in all manners oversee  
you who always have the courage to speak first  
who calls on Qun and can speak rhymes unrehearsed  
who understands our ways: we would to you be  
deeply honored, if you would to this agree.”  
Nyota stepped forward.  
“You know as well as I this will take time  
to negotiate between tlhIngan and Starfleet  
I have my own obligations to  
my captain, ship, and comrades, but I admit  
I want to take your offer, so let us say  
I vow to keep my promises today:  
I promise to give of my very best  
to communicate between our worlds’ interests  
I promise to fulfill my duties to  
IDIC, keeping, peace, fostering new  
bridges between two different ways of being  
I promise to respect, even in disagreeing  
I promise that, if this all comes to pass  
I’ll do my best to make our friendship last.  
This I you vow, on honor of Nkishi  
whose spirits now alights the five lemon trees.”  
  
  
\--


	45. xlv. glasnost

\--

 

/

 

\--


	46. xlvi. cloth

\--

 

/

 

\--


	47. xlvii. oath

\--  
  
  
 _Heghlu'DI' mobbe'lu'chugh QaQpu' Hegh wanI'_  
(Death is an experience best shared.)  
There will always be those who mean to do us harm.  
(I’m sorry.)  
To stop them, we risk awakening the same evil within ourselves.  
(I was hurting.)  
Our first instinct is to seek revenge when those we love are taken from us.  
(I risked us all, I risked myself.)  
But that is not who we are.  
(That is not who I am.)  
We are here today  
(Please, stay with me tomorrow)  
To rechristen the U.S.S.  _Enterprise_  
(This is our ship)  
And to honor those who lost their lives  
(This is our crew)  
Nearly one year ago.  
(This is our story)  
When Christopher Pike first gave me his ship  
(After Vulcan’s death)  
He had me recite the Captain’s Oath.  
(To remind me of life)  
Words I didn’t appreciate at the time.  
(I know my abilities)  
Now I see them as a call for us  
(I know my limits)  
To remember who we once were  
(Here. Now.)  
And who we must be again.  
(Again.)  
And those words:  
(We are alive.)  
Space, the final frontier.  
(We will die.)  
These are the voyages of the Starship  _Enterprise_.  
(The universe is older than us.)  
Her five year mission  
(Our story)  
To explore strange new worlds  
(Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combination)  
To seek out new life and new civilizations  
(First Contact)  
To boldly go  
(Prime Directive)  
Where no one  
(Peace, and long life)  
Has gone before.  
(Live long, and prosper.)  
 _Dif tor heh smusma._  
  
  
\--


	48. xlviii. muse

\--  
  
  
Tell me, Muse, of the ship of many ways, which was driven  
to far journeys. Many were they whose cities she saw  
whose minds she learned of, whose lives she touched.  
Many the pains she suffered in her spirit on the wide sea,  
struggling for her life and the homecoming of her companions.  
Even so, she could not save her companions, for grief  
is hard and devours even the gods, and long was the day  
before their homecoming. She could not save her companions,  
but she preserved them and all others, fleeing from sheer destruction  
to escape the sea and the fighting. Within the circling of the years  
the very year in which the fates had spun for them their time  
of homecoming: From some point here, goddess,  
speak, and begin our story.  
  
  
\--


End file.
